Muggle Hunt
by crochetaway
Summary: Every Muggle-Repelling Charm in wizarding Britain falls. The wizarding society collapses. Hermione finds herself hunted and alone, when she stumbles across the first wizards she's seen in months. A story of how sometimes our worst enemies become our allies. Heed the warnings inside. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Updated 6/15/18 - I have an outline! But still no update schedule. This is going to be 12 chapters or so.**

 **A warning:**

 **1) This will be rated M for sex, language, and violence.**

 **Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff. Also, if you like this (or hate it) let me know about it in a review!**

 **Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

 _August 2002_

 _Diagon Alley_

 _London, UK_

The day the Muggle-Repelling charms fell around Diagon Alley wasn't the worst day of Hermione's life, but it was close. She was helping George mind the shop when a massive clap of what Hermione assumed to be thunder was heard.

It wasn't thunder.

The first Muggle who walked through the space where the Leaky Cauldron had stood was killed in the street. An _Avada Kedavra_ right to the heart. The second and third suffered the same fate. Nobody knew what happened to the Leaky Cauldron or the Muggle-Repelling charms that had been set into its very stones, but when they tried to reset the charms, they failed. Every time. In fact, all Muggle-Repelling charms began to fail all across Britain. Hermione didn't know if it was happening in other magical communities, because a week after the Muggle-Repelling charms fell, the hunts began.

The first day of the hunts had been close to the worst day of Hermione's life. She'd been living in her parent's house. They hadn't sold it before their impromptu trip to Australia, and Hermione decided since it was empty and sitting there, she'd live there. She hadn't counted on the Muggle government being much more organized and swifter than the wizarding one. Her records, showing that she'd dropped out of school at age eleven had been the tip-off.

She'd had to incapacitate seven law enforcement personnel before she'd managed to escape.

Wizarding society in Britain was essentially destroyed.

* * *

 _November 2002_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Gloucestershire, UK_

The worst day of Hermione's life had been the day she'd killed a Muggle law enforcement office. She'd been foraging in the Forest of Dean, living in the same tent she and Harry and Ron had lived in during the war. She hadn't seen another wizard since she'd been on the run, too afraid to go anywhere magical lest she either be captured or lead Muggle law enforcement to her friends.

The Muggle saw Hermione use magic. Then he pulled out this thing; it looked like a ray-gun from Muggle comic books from the sixties. It wasn't a ray-gun. It was some sort of magical dampening device. Hermione cursed wizards and their inability or unwillingness to do any sort of scientific research. She had no idea how quickly the Muggles had been able to figure out something like a magical dampening device without magic. But it had only been a few months since the fall of wizarding Britain.

"Hey! Witch!" the Muggle shouted at her. Hermione whirled around, horrified at having been caught.

"Stay back!" Hermione warned, pointing her wand at him. She wasn't worried about using magic against Muggles now. Not since they began hunting down her kind. Once she had counted herself a Muggle, and she would have again, had they not figured out she was indeed a witch.

The Muggle pulled out the ray-gun looking thing, and Hermione cast a Shield charm, it usually worked with projectiles. It failed the moment the Muggle pulled the gun.

"What?" Hermione cast again, but nothing happened. The Muggle laughed.

Hermione instantly knew what that thing was, and turned and sprinted as fast as she could, hoping to lose the Muggle in the trees. She raced and tripped and caught herself several times before she ran directly into someone. Bouncing off of a hard body, she would have fallen had the person she ran into not caught her around the waist. Hermione's eyes widened when she caught sight of the broad chest; she tipped her head back. A huge, Viking of a man was staring down at her with piercing blue eyes. His long, dirty-blond hair hung past his shoulders, and he had a neatly trimmed beard. His hands ran up and down her back.

"Alright, Little Witch?" Thorfinn Rowle rumbled.

 _Fuck!_ Hermione's mind screamed. What was worse Muggles or Death Eaters? A few months ago it would have been Death Eaters hands down. Now? Now it was Muggles.

"There's a Muggle following me," Hermione said quickly. "He's got a magic dampening device; we have to get away."

"Not so fast, _solnyshka_ ," Antonin Dolohov said from her other side.

Hermione whirled around, spotting the dark-haired Russian and felt her heart begin to race even faster. Rowle was bad, Dolohov was worse. Turning again she found Talen Yaxley, almost as large as Rowle, but completely clean shaven, including his head, and next to him was Connor Gibbon, who almost looked like a Weasley with his light red hair and towering height.

She hadn't found one Death Eater; she'd found an entire encampment. She started backing away but found herself backing into the solid chest of Rowle, who had positioned himself behind her.

"Which way did you say that Muggle was?" Rowle whispered in her ear. Hermione found herself shivering involuntarily. She couldn't figure out what to do. These were the first magical people she'd run into in months, and she had been desperate to find some of her own kind, but Death Eaters? Even if the Dark Lord was defeated, that didn't make them good people. It made them people who had escaped from Azkaban once the Muggle-Repelling charms failed. She supposed she was glad they hadn't rotted there once the guards had run away, but her compassion didn't override her good sense.

"Where, _solnyshka_?" Dolohov asked with urgency in his voice.

Hermione closed her eyes, listening for the Muggle, she could hear something crashing through the brush off to the left and pointed. Gibbon, Yaxley, and Dolohov raced off that direction as Rowle slipped his hands around her waist.

"Wh-What are you doing?" Hermione asked. She desperately wanted to pull away but didn't want to anger the man either. He was huge and could subdue her easily.

"Haven't seen a witch in years," Rowle muttered. His breath was hot in Hermione's ear, and this time she shivered for an entirely different reason.

Rowle's hands wandered along her waist, rising as high as her chest to brush the underside of her breasts and as low as her thighs.

"This is not the time for this," Hermione hissed, and Rowle pressed his lips to her neck.

"You sure?" Rowle asked, trailing his lips down her neck to her shoulder. Hermione's head seemed to tilt involuntarily to give him better access. "I think you rather like it."

The worst part was that he wasn't wrong. She _did_ like it. Probably too much. But Rowle was a Death Eater and—

Gibbon, Yaxley, and Dolohov returned then. The Muggle was being dragged between Gibbon and Yaxley.

"Did he touch you?" Dolohov asked Hermione.

"Wh-Who?" She shook her head. Clearly, Dolohov could see Rowle standing behind her, his arms still around her waist.

"The Muggle," Gibbon spat.

"No," Hermione shook her head.

"Well, that will make his death easier," Yaxley commented.

"What? No! You can't kill him!" Hermione shouted, trying to dart forward, but Rowle's hands held her in place.

"They are killing us, _solnyshka_ ," Dolohov spat.

"But—"

"If we don't kill him, Little Witch," Rowle breathed into her ear, "then he will come back one day to kill us."

Hermione shook her head, she knew Rowle was right, but thus far she had been sparing the Muggles, she wasn't a killer.

"She needs to do it," Gibbon growled.

"No!" Hermione shouted. "I am not killing him."

"Come, now, she probably hasn't ever killed anyone," Rowle said, oddly defending her. "I'll do it."

"No," Yaxley said, stepping forward. "She needs to do it. She's a witch. Prove to us that you're on our side and not _theirs_."

Rowle backed away from Hermione then, and she found she missed his warmth. Could she do it? Could she kill this Muggle? He surely would have killed her; she knew that without a certainty. This was a war, a more significant and more devastating war than the one with the Dark Lord. For wizards were fighting for their very survival now.

"I can't," Hermione whispered, closing her eyes. She cursed the tears she felt streak down her cheeks and dropped her head so that the Death Eaters wouldn't see. Would they kill her? For her failure to execute a Muggle?

"You can," Gibbon said. Suddenly Hermione felt another pair of hands on her waist. She snapped her eyes open, turning her head to find Gibbon standing behind her. Just as Rowle had made her breath catch, so to did Gibbon.

"You have to believe it. You have to want it. More than that, you have to use a strong emotion to force the spell. Just like your Patronus needs happiness, the Unforgivables need hate."

Hermione nodded, unable to take her eyes from Gibbon's light green ones. She felt captivated by those eyes and the rush of arousal that had begun by Rowle and his kisses, flared to life again under Gibbon's touch.

"Who do you hate?" Gibbon asked softly.

Hermione shook her head, "Nobody."

Gibbon narrowed his eyes and pursed her lips, then gently turned her face, so she was looking at the Muggle. He was unconscious lying on the ground.

"Wake him up, Talen," Gibbon ordered.

A quick Rennervate later and the Muggle was on the ground, gasping.

"What?" the Muggle said, testing the ropes that bound him. "What's going on?"

"Now, what do you think the Muggle would do to you if he had caught you alone in the forest?"

Hermione shook her head; she absolutely did not want to think of that. Gibbon's left hand went from resting on her waist to the front of her hip, pressing her back into his body. He was hard, she could feel the length of him against her bum, and her breath caught.

"Would he have captured you? Maybe bound you, like he's bound now?"

Hermione didn't move, just fingered the wand she was still clutching. He might have.

"Would he have violated you? Tore your clothes from your body and taken it for his?" Gibbon's breath was hot in Hermione's ear, even as his arms wrapped themselves tighter around her body, holding her to him. Hermione couldn't take her eyes off the Muggle, who was now spouting epithets at them.

"I'm going to fucking kill you! Fucking freaks! The lot of you!" The Muggle was practically frothing at the mouth.

Hermione felt her blood begin to boil. How dare he? They weren't freaks! Any more than he was for not having magic.

"Would he have brought all his mates along for the ride?" Gibbon asked. "Would he have insisted you give them a turn too?"

Hermione's breath was coming hard and fast now as she imagined what the Muggle would have done to her had she not run into the Death Eaters. She wasn't naive. She knew what a man could do to a woman he found on his own. Especially a man like this Muggle who clearly was out hunting down wizards.

"Would he have killed you? After he used you? Killed you and thrown you away like trash?"

Hermione practically growled at that. He would have. Absolutely and the thought infuriated her.

"That hate you're feeling? Use it. Say it," Gibbon urged.

Hermione lifted her wand, letting the hate fill her entire being, " _Avada Kedavra_." She said it quietly, but with as much power as she could put behind the spell. A jet of vivid green light shot out of her wand and hit the man in the chest, knocking him to his back, killing him instantly.

Hermione felt nothing at his death. She'd expected to feel her soul rip in two, but it didn't. She felt nothing. She felt almost numb. Gibbon released her and stepped back, and that's when Hermione realized she was going to faint. She began to tumble and was out before she hit the floor of the forest.

* * *

 _November 2002_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Gloucestershire, UK_

"Can't believe that worked," Antonin muttered as Granger was fainting.

"Merlin," Thorfinn grunted, having run to catch the falling witch. "Couldn't have kept hold of her could you, Connor?"

"Didn't think she'd faint," Connor shrugged. "What're we going to do with him?" Connor kicked the dead Muggle's leg.

"We could set him out as a warning," Talen suggested.

"No," Antonin replied. He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. "It's too close to our camp anyway. Let's just transfigure him to something else and leave it near the trailhead. And get this one," he gestured to Granger, "back to camp."

"You got it," Connor replied.

"Come on," Antonin nodded to Connor and directed Thorfinn and Talen to follow him back to camp. He had no idea what they were going to do with Granger. She was both a blessing and a complication. The only witch in the camp made her a blessing. The only witch in the camp made her a complication as well. Most of the Death Eaters they had were escaped from Azkaban after the Muggle-Repelling charms fell.

Antonin wasn't sure how it happened, but he seemed to find himself as the de facto leader of the camp. He was by far the oldest Death Eater around, which meant the younger ones looked up to him. Most of the time he just felt like a fraud and did his best to keep everyone alive. And now that included Granger. Thorfinn had already had his hands all over the girl. Had they been gone any longer, Antonin was sure they'd have come back to find her bent over as Thorfinn fucked her.

It was a complication he didn't need. But it was a blessing that may just save the camp from tearing itself apart if he could get the wizards to leave her alone. Antonin didn't think a witch as bright as Granger would take kindly to becoming the camp broomstick and he honestly hoped it didn't come to that. But she had seemed to trust them much quicker than he would have thought, blurting out about the Muggle following her, instead of trying to escape and then whatever it was Connor had done to her to make her kill the Muggle. That had been a bit of magic that Antonin was not familiar with.

If Granger chose a mate, how would Antonin keep the rest of the wizards from tearing her mate or her apart? He didn't know, which is what made her a complication he didn't need. Maybe he could disguise her as a young boy instead of a woman?

"Stop," Antonin said suddenly. He whirled around to Thorfinn, who was holding Granger bridal style and looking at her with such adoration that Antonin already knew Thorfinn was going to be a problem.

"What's going on?" Talen asked.

"I'm going to need you two and Connor to make me a vow. Granger can't be brought into camp like this. Not as a witch. We'll never survive. I'm going to mask her identity as a young boy instead. But I'll need your vow to not tell a soul about it."

Thorfinn furrowed his brows, and Talen asked, "What do you mean we won't survive?"

"When was the last time you set eyes on a witch before today?"

"During the war," Talen replied, suddenly seeming to get it. "They'll all want a piece of her."

"That is not happening," Thorfinn growled.

Antonin pursed his lips; already it was going to be a problem. Hopefully, if he could keep it among these three, three of his most trusted men, this deception might work.

"Which is why we're going to cast a glamour charm and make her look like a young wizard. Maybe a teenager. Then she'll be assigned to one of our te—"

"Mine," Thorfinn said. "She'll be assigned to mine."

"Alright," Antonin agreed. Better not argue with Thorfinn on it, as Thorfinn was their biggest wizard, the enforcer for most of the camp. Antonin didn't want to get on his bad side. "Can I cast the charm now?"

"Only if you tell me the counter-charm," Thorfinn replied.

Talen frowned, "Thor, are you going to sleep with her?"

"Going to try my best."

"What about the rest of us?" Talen asked.

"Don't get in my way," Thorfinn replied menacingly.

"This isn't going to work," Talen told Antonin. "Not if he's going to act like a jealous brute. He doesn't get to keep her for himself."

"First, she's a fucking witch, which makes her her own damned person," Granger muttered from Thorfinn's arms.

She cracked an eye and looked straight at Antonin. "But I agree with your assessment; I do not want to be passed around like some sexual toy for however many wizards are in the camp." Then she swatted Thorfinn, "Put me down, you brute."

Gently, Thorfinn set her on her feet, but kept his hands on her waist, steadying her.

"But what about us?" Talen asked, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"I'm not inclined to sleep with someone just because they are sexually frustrated and will know my secret," Granger replied, her hands attempting to pull out of Thorfinn's grasp.

"But what about when you're sexually frustrated, Little Witch?" Thorfinn muttered, pulling her into his body.

Antonin found it interesting that her breath caught and her eyes fluttered a very telling reaction.

"It's your choice," Antonin told her. "Us three and Connor are the only ones who will know you are a witch. We'll keep it that way for now. I'll tell you all the counter-charm, but don't get fucking caught."

"Or caught fucking," Talen laughed.

Antonin glared at him.

"Fine," Granger replied. "I agree with your terms."

"Good."

* * *

 _November 2002_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

Hermione was nervous and scared. The Death Eaters made her nervous; the fact that she was walking into a Death Eater encampment with who knew how many wizards who hadn't seen a witch in years made her want to run away and hide. The glamor Dolohov had crafted for her worked rather well, but Hermione was terrified it would fade at some point.

Gibbon eventually caught up to them and had been let in on the secret as well. "We'll find something to charm for you to wear," Gibbon had told her.

"You can do that?" Hermione asked. She'd never heard of such a thing. Gibbon grinned and removed a ring he'd been wearing on his right hand. Immediately his face was splattered with freckles.

"My mother's ring," Gibbon said, "she charmed it to hide her own freckles, and when she died, I took to wearing it."

"That's very impressive," Hermione replied and watched as he slipped it back onto his pinky. The freckles disappeared.

"Jewelry works best, but I don't see you're wearing any…"

"I sold it, for food money a few months back," Hermione said tightly. Not ready to get into all that had happened to her in the last few months.

Thankfully, Gibbon just nodded, and they continued to the camp.

"Speak as little as possible," Antonin instructed her. He seemed to be the leader of this band, and Hermione found herself nodding along to his instructions.

"We can add a voice deepening charm to whatever it is we find," Gibbon said.

"What name?" Hermione asked.

"Herman?" Antonin suggested, and Hermione wrinkled her nose. "What's your suggestion?"

"No Herman is fine. Will they have a problem that I'm Muggleborn?" Hermione asked.

"If they ask, we'll say you're a half-blood. But seriously, no talking until we get something charmed for you. And if you do talk, whisper it or something."

Hermione nodded, taking it all in. They'd decided the easiest way to deal with her hair was just to cut it off, and her head felt strangely light without the mass of curls to weigh it down. She'd even exchanged her clothes for a set of Gibbon's, by far the person closest to her in size, but they still had to charm them to make them fit. She felt like an imposter and was very uncomfortable.

"Everyone in the camp has a job; we'll have you shadow Connor for now."

Hermione nodded, and they were off again. She smelled the campfires before she saw them and within moments she found herself in a circle of tents surrounded by Death Eaters.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: If you haven't yet, go back and check out chapter 1. I updated the warnings and made some very minor updates to the chapter. Mostly some SPaG cleanup and adding some dates/locations. I've got 12 chapters outlined for this story. But no update schedule. They'll come as my other WIP's allow.**

 **If you liked this chapter (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! You can find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or Facebook at Shan Crochetaway.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _June 2002_

 _Malfoy Manor_

 _Wiltshire, UK_

Lucius Malfoy had always been ambitious. It was in his blood like it had been in his father's before him. His sorting into Slytherin had been a certainty from the time he was a child at six years old when he traveled via Floo to Gringotts on his own. He'd done it for a broom and had half expected the goblins to send him home. They didn't. They let him access the vault—he'd taken the key from his father's desk—then had gone to Quality Quidditch Supplies and had purchased the fastest broom they sold. His father had been so impressed with the ambition that he'd let Lucius keep the racing broom, even though his mother disapproved. Lucius still had the broom, despite falling off of it and breaking his arm a scant three months after purchasing it.

As he aged, that ambition had not left him. Even now, imprisoned in his own home for four long years, he was ambitious.

His wife and son were both dead, victims in the final battle. His house elves had been freed, and the Manor had been locked and warded to be a prison cell; a prison cell that included a portrait of every one of his ancestors going back thirteen generations. If Lucius hadn't been mad before being locked up in his own home—and there is considerable argument that he was, what with following a megalomaniac with the fervor he did—then he certainly was now.

He walked around his home, henpecked. But worse than that. Lucius could handle henpecking. Narcissa was a whinger after all and Lucius had resigned himself with living with it for the rest of his life. No, what his ancestors did was much, much more than henpecking.

"It's your fault, Lucius!" his great-aunt Lucretia screamed at him. "You're the heir, and now because of _you_ the Malfoy line will die out!"

Lucius flinched and hurried through the portrait gallery to get to the library as other relatives hurled their abuses on him. He'd had the foresight of having every portrait removed from the library after his father had died. His bedroom and the library were the only safe places in the entire house. It was exhausting. Somedays Lucius contemplated sleeping in the library, but as henpecked as he was, he wasn't a cretin. Not yet, anyway.

The Aurors who had searched the Manor before his returning there had not done a very good job. Not only had they left most of his library, but they failed to find his hidden stash of wands. When they'd taken his and snapped it before his eyes, he'd felt a piece of himself break. He'd wandered the Manor for weeks before he remembered that he had hidden several wands taken during the war under a floorboard in his study. That particular floorboard had been underneath his desk. Apparently, they hadn't thought to move the monstrosity. It was quite a challenge for Lucius to move by himself, but he managed it one day. And, lo and behold, his wand stash was still there. Lucius left the portraits alone, as much as he would have wanted to silence them all, he was visited once a month by a delegation from the Auror department. He didn't think his relatives would tattle on him to the Auror, but he couldn't be sure. So instead, he let them harangue him until they were blue in the face.

The library was where he spent his days, as even his study had a portrait of his father in it. He'd been so lucky the day he dug the wands out from under the floorboards that his father's portrait had been empty. He hadn't even checked until he was on the floor, attempting to move the desk. He froze in his spot as he realized his arse was pointed right at his father's portrait. Lucius moved to his knees slowly and looked over his shoulder instantly relieved to find the painting empty. He'd hurried then, he had no idea how long his father would be out of the portrait and knew that he had to have the desk exactly back in place if he hoped not to incur his father's wrath. The room was Lucius' study, but it had been his father's before him, and Lucius always felt a little like he was encroaching on his father's turf, even long after his father had died.

He'd squirrelled the wands away and how useful they were now. Only two of them worked with any sort of precision for him, but that was more than enough. It was somewhat challenging to find the edge he was looking for, but once he found it, he knew that he would change the wizarding world forever. He couldn't wait.

Following the Dark Lord had been his father's idea, but that didn't mean Lucius didn't agree with the Dark Lord's agenda. A world without Mudbloods? Without Muggles? That would be a sweet world indeed. Lucius had worked most of his life toward such a goal. So why was he now plotting to bring the separation between the two worlds down? Well, that was an easy answer. As much as Lucius wanted to keep the Muggle filth from infiltrating the wizarding world, the wizarding world had cast him out. And they would pay dearly for it. Or, at least Lucius hoped they'd pay dearly for it.

If anything, Lucius was not stupid. He may have filled his son's head with tales of Muggles being filthy and beneath wizards, but take one step into Muggle London, and you could only marvel at all the Muggles had accomplished without the aid of magic. Lucius hoped that once he brought the Muggle-Repelling charms down across Britain, that the Muggles would see the wizards as a threat—just as the wizarding world had seen Lucius as a threat—and eliminate them.

His plan worked better than he had a chance of hoping it would. All he had to do was find the right ley line. All Muggle-Repelling charms were attuned to the same ley line. It was the foundation that made them work. Lucius hadn't even known that until his extensive research into it. And luckily for him, that ley line ran right under Malfoy Manor, which meant, Lucius had immediate access to it. He was almost finished with the last rune. Once that was completed, he just had to get to the cellar—since he couldn't get outside—he had to get as close to the ley line as possible. Usually, that was done by being out in nature. But the cellar had a dirt floor, which should work for Lucius' purposes.

Lucius' grin was maniacal once the last rune was done. He looked through his calculations once more, quite confident that this would work. Then set off for his wine cellar. Too bad there wasn't any wine in it to drink in celebration. Along with everything else, the Ministry had taken all of the alcohol out of the house. That was alright, Lucius was about to get his payback on those fools at the Ministry. And what a payback it would be.

His ancestors hailed insults and abuse down on him as he moved through the house. The walk to the cellar was long; he had to go through the kitchens to get there. Once he arrived, his relief was short lived. There was a portrait of some Malfoy from the fourteenth century in the cellar. Relatives crowded into that portrait, asking questions and hounding him for information.

"Don't worry," Lucius muttered. "It'll all be over soon."

He pulled out one of his wands and drew a quick circle in the dirt of the floor. Entering the circle, Lucius knelt on the floor and closed his eyes. He reached out with his magic, feeling for the ley line and when he found it, it pulsed strongly through him. It felt bright red and robust. Probably the reason it was chosen to tie the Muggle-Repelling charms to it. It probably travelled the length of the country. Once he had a good grip of the ley line, he opened his eyes and picked up his rune stones. Using a small spell he created, he pushed the rune stones into the ley line. Thurisaz for destruction; Hagalaz for wrath of nature; and finally Nauthiz for delay and restriction.

The ley line shuddered and Lucius dropped it from the hold of his magic. Closing his eyes once more, he watched as the line sunk back into the earth. It didn't appear full and robust anymore, but shattered and jagged. It's brilliant red color had gone dull. Lucius' grin deepened as he watched the destruction he'd wrought.

* * *

 _June 2002_

 _Malfoy Manor_

 _Wiltshire, UK_

Two weeks after Lucius destroyed the Muggle-Repelling charms, Malfoy Manor was overrun with a Muggle military force. They seemed surprised that the huge building held one lone man. Even double casting, Lucius' wands were no match for the guns the Muggles carried. He was dead within minutes of the Muggle's having breached the front door. The Malfoy Manor library was raided and all contents taken back to the Muggle military base.

* * *

 _August 2002_

 _Ministry of Defense Compound_

 _Portland Bill, UK_

She couldn't believe her luck when the Muggle-Repelling charms had fallen across magical Britain. It was as if everything she'd wished in the last four years was finally coming true. Retribution. Revenge. Vengeance. It all tasted sweet in her mouth as she watched the Muggles invade magical site after magical site. And she was quite comfortable helping them along the way when they asked for it. Not that any knew who she was. Or rather, who she had been. These days she simply went by Rho.

Immediately following the disastrous Second Wizarding War, Rho had moved to Muggle London. She wasn't necessarily shunned in the wizarding world, but the thought of living there left a bad taste in her mouth. She had decided to get out while she could. Her parents had been killed in the battle, and she had no other family. Half of her friends were dead. Rho had felt as if the only thing she could do was move to the Muggle world. The Ministry had seized her family's Gringotts account, and all of the properties her family had owned. She was alone and penniless.

She'd found help by way of a young Muggle boy. He was about her age and happily ignorant of her secret identity. She was happy to keep it that way too. After snooping through the boy's things, Rho had managed to make very convincing copies of identification with her own photograph and details. It was enough to fool the Muggles in charge of entrance to Muggle Uni. Rho had always had an interest in potions and had found an equivalent in Muggle science. Chemistry was fascinating, but Rho found that physics was where her true passions laid. She'd sailed through her courses and soon became employed with the Muggle Ministry of Defense, which is where she found herself when she'd heard about the Muggle-Repelling charms.

"Here," her supervisor tossed her a handful of wands.

Rho just managed to keep her expression neutral; she lifted one perfectly manicured eyebrow. "What are these?"

"Some sort of weapon. Reverse engineer them and figure out how they work."

Rho nodded and set to work. She knew how wands worked, what her supervisor really needed was how to detect whether someone had magic or not. She set aside the wands and went about drawing some blood from herself. She'd have to figure out what made her a witch as opposed to a Muggle.

Several hours later, her boyfriend interrupted her. "What are you doing?"

"Mmm, it's complicated. You heard about what happened in London today?" Rho asked. She smiled as she watched her boyfriend fill the doorway to her lab. They'd been lucky to be stationed at the same base, considering he was the same Muggle she'd found directly after leaving the wizarding world.

"I heard." Her boyfriend looked around the lab for a moment, and Rho followed his eyes. He was clearly attempting to see if they were alone. Satisfied, he went on, "I actually know a little about the wizarding world."

"Really?" This had surprised Rho. She hadn't realized as he'd never said anything before.

"I had a foster brother, remember?"

Rho nodded, he'd talked about his foster brother fleetingly.

"He was a wizard. Disappeared entirely five or so years ago." He shrugged. "Haven't seen him since."

Rho nodded. She was still slightly floored that the first Muggle she ran into had been someone who had even a brief association with the wizarding world.

"So you haven't seen him then?" Rho asked.

Her boyfriend shook his head. "No. You know my mum, she never thought he was good enough."

Rho nodded, she did know his mum. She was a right bear. His father had died of a heart attack a few years back, so she hadn't known him as well, but if the stories he told about his dad were even half true… she shuddered. Her boyfriend had not had that happy of a childhood. Much like hers actually.

"Well, maybe you can help me then?" Rho suggested. "I'm trying to figure out what makes them, wizards and the like, different than us. Can I get a sample of your blood?"

"Sure, love," he smiled and began rolling up his sleeve. Rho sighed at the sight of his muscled forearm; he really was very pretty.

* * *

 _November 2002_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

"Here," Rowle said gruffly handing Hermione a small package. She'd been in the Death Eater encampment for only a few days and was heartily sick of her disguise already. It took an effort to keep her glamor up and in place. And then to not speak on top of it. It was almost torture. She was thankful that she shared a tent with Rowle, Gibbon, and Yaxley and could drop the glamor the moment she entered.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, accepting the package carefully. She wasn't quite sure whether she could trust any of these men yet, even though Rowle made her sleep in his bed. When she'd argued that first night, he'd backed her into the tent pole and reminded her that she was there on _their_ good graces. Hermione had bristled and almost walked out of the tent without her glamor on. Gibbon had caught her in time and promptly offered his bed.

Hermione had been about to accept, at least Gibbon wasn't a brute until Rowle intervened once more. The man was positively infuriating. He'd put his foot down, and when Yaxley had come in with Dolohov following him, Dolohov had actually agreed with Rowle of all people.

"This isn't fair," Hermione argued. "Why don't I get a bloody choice in this?"

"Finders keepers, Granger," Rowle had smirked at her.

Dolohov sighed, "More than that, Rowle can protect you the best. But also, yes, finders keepers."

"I'm not a fucking thing!" Hermione had shouted.

"Of course not," Rowle had responded. "But it still counts. And since you need protecting, then you are my assignment. And I decide that my assignment sleeps in my bed." He'd crossed his massive forearms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow at her, daring her to argue.

"Fine," Hermione finally assented. "But I snore, and I kick. I won't apologize for it." Then she'd flicked her wand, transfiguring her clothes into the dowdiest, flannel-iest set of pyjamas she could conjure. When Rowle frowned, Hermione knew she'd done an excellent job.

"It's a necklace. I found it among my things. I'd forgotten I had it," Rowle said quietly bringing her back to the present. He sat next to her in front of the small stove they used for warmth in the tent. "It was my mother's."

"Oh, I can't take this." Hermione hadn't even looked at it, just pushed it back into Rowle's hands.

"You will. You're exhausting yourself keeping up the glamors. Let Connor help you embed the charm into the necklace. It's just a plain thing, nothing that special." Rowle shrugged but firmly handed the necklace back to her.

Hermione searched his eyes for a moment, she couldn't decipher the emotion there, but he looked sincere. She nodded and accepted the package. It was just a piece of cloth when opened it; she found a gorgeous gold chain, thin as thread, and a sizeable malachite stone at the end.

"You call this plain?" Hermione asked with alarm. Malachite was for protection; she knew that much. Was it possible that Rowle had this made for her?

"You are terrible at taking a gift, you know?" Rowle scowled at her.

Hermione immediately felt embarrassed. He had done a nice thing after all. "There aren't any other enchantments on it?"

He shook his head, "Connor told me it had to be clean. It's the only thing I had of hers that didn't have some sort of enchantment on it."

Nodding, Hermione slipped the chain over her head. It was long enough that it didn't have to be unclasped. The malachite stone sat heavily between her breasts.

"Perfect," Rowle breathed, tracing a finger down the side of Hermione's face. Her breathing picked up, and she felt herself blush when she realized Rowle wasn't talking about the necklace.

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly. She bit her lip when she realized that's where Rowle's gaze was focussed. He snapped his bright blue eyes to hers, and she could see that his pupils were wide with desire. Truth be told, Hermione had been fighting her attraction to Rowle since the day she'd run into him.

Rowle's thumb pulled her lip from between her teeth, and he leaned closer, his lips just a barely out of reach.

"Little witch," he breathed, and Hermione closed the distance and her eyes at the same time. His lips were warm and firm. He didn't move for a moment as if he were shocked by her boldness, but then when he did, he took complete control of the kiss. Massaging her lips with his own as he pushed one hand through her short hair, cupping the back of her neck, and directing her head to get the best angle. Hermione wound her hands through his own mane, pulling him closer, as his other hand landed on her waist and pulled her forward into his lap. The motion startled her into a gasp, which he took advantage of by sliding his tongue into her mouth.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," a voice growled from behind them, and Hermione attempted to jump off of Rowle's lap, but Rowle held her firm. He did break the kiss, leaning his forehead against hers. Hermione kept her eyes shut. She knew that voice. It was Gibbon.

"Well, that didn't take you long did it?"

"Oh, shut it, Connor. Don't be jealous." Rowle snapped. Hermione tensed at his tone, but he soothed her by running his hands down her back.

Gibbon muttered something else under his breath and then left the tent once more.

"He's gone, little witch," Rowle murmured. Hermione nodded and attempted to leave his lap once more, but Rowle stopped her. "None of that."

"We shouldn't be doing this," Hermione replied. "It's not right, and it's only going to anger Gibbon and Yaxley."

"Of course it is, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't do it. Don't you feel it?" Rowle asked.

Hermione looked up at him. She wasn't sure if he meant the hard cock that was pressed against her core or the ridiculous amount of sexual tension they had.

"Still," Hermione insisted, this time pushing his arms from her and moving off of him. "We shouldn't." She flicked her wand, donning her disguise once more and went off in search of Gibbon.

* * *

 _November 2002_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

Hermione was dreaming. She knew she was dreaming, because when she'd visited the Burrow and the Lovegood's home in real life, there wasn't any screaming. Instead it had been deathly quiet. Eerily quiet as the smoke rose from both structures. Hermione hadn't stayed long. It had only been a few weeks since the Muggle-Repelling charms had fallen, and she'd chanced a visit to both places. The smoking rubble had been disappointing. She'd wanted to look for bodies, but hadn't had the courage to stay. She was terrified the Muggles would come back. She could only hope that they all got out in time. That was the last time she went looking for someone.

Neither the Burrow nor the Lovegood's home had been protected by the Fidelius Charm though. She had hoped that Grimmauld Place might be safe. Sure, the Muggle-Repelling charms would have fallen, same as everywhere else. But that didn't mean that the Fidelius _also_ would have collapsed. And Gryffindor though she was, she couldn't quite muster the courage to go into the heart of London by herself to check.

"Little witch," someone whispered, and Hermione knew that wasn't part of her dream. "Little witch," the voice said again, and Hermione woke up.

"Alright?" Rowle asked from beside her.

Hermione looked around blearily and realized she was in her bed in the tent with the Death Eaters. Rowle's bed too. He took up most of it, leaving a tiny spot between him and the wall of the tent. They'd charmed the wall to be stable after the first night when Hermione had ended up wedged between the wall and the bed. Hermione had also increased the size of the bed, but there was only so much room in the tent.

Nodding, Hermione muttered, "Nightmare."

Rowle sighed and wrapped his arm around her. Hermione snuggled into his side, knowing that he was offering what comfort he could and tried to go back to sleep.

* * *

 _November 2002_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

"Alright, so once we cast an Opening Charm, then we can embed the glamor into the metal itself," Gibbon explained.

"Not the stone?" Hermione asked.

Gibbon shook his head, "Safer to do it to the metal. The stone could fall off. Besides, casting a charm on the stone could reduce the effectiveness of its properties. Metal is the better option. And gold especially is very good at taking enchantments."

Hermione nodded. "So I'll cast the Opening Charm, and you'll do the glamor?"

"No, I think you should do the glamor. I might miss something."

"Let's do it then."

Gibbon nodded and picked up his wand. He muttered the charm, and then Hermione got to work. She had to add multiple glamors to cover everything from her hair to her body to her voice. Once finished, Gibbon cast the Closing Charm and it was complete.

"Let's see if it worked," Gibbon said and lifted the necklace from the table they were sitting at; he handed it to her and Hermione slipped it over her head.

Due to the enchantments, she couldn't see the differences unless she looked in a mirror and of course none of the Death Eaters had a mirror.

"Well?" Hermione asked and was startled to hear the much deeper tone come out of her. "Woah. This is weird. Lalalala. Creepy."

Gibbon laughed. "You did well. Look just like a fifteen-year-old kid."

"I'm twenty-three." Hermione frowned.

"Yeah, but we couldn't add too much mass to your petite frame. You'll pass for a younger teenager. Let's leave it at that."

Hermione nodded, still not entirely satisfied, but it would have to do.

* * *

 _November 2002_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

Hermione had been in the Death Eater encampment for almost three weeks at this point and couldn't stand her short hair anymore. She hit it with a growth charm and overnight it had grown back. Now that she had the necklace, she didn't need to have the short hair, and she was thankful for it. She'd felt naked with her hair as short as it had been, and the glamor made her hair look not only short but also straight, adding to her disguise.

Currently, she was following Gibbon as he gave orders to the rest of the encampment. The Death Eaters had set up a very regimented system. Everyone had a job in order to make the whole community work. She'd been surprised at the number of people who were in the camp. At first, she'd assumed it was only going to be a few of them, but it was closer to a hundred. And a few people had the job of looking for other magical folks and bringing them into the encampment if they could. They'd only found three so far, but Dolohov seemed optimistic. It was still all men though, and since the majority were Death Eaters, Hermione had plenty of reasons to keep her disguise.

"Herman, you go with Flint and Nott," Gibbon said, breaking her reverie.

"Right," Hermione nodded and glanced at the two other Death Eaters. These were people she knew, at least a little bit. Theo Nott had been in her year at Hogwarts, and Marcus Flint had been a few years older than her.

"You'll be working on the camp washing," Gibbon added.

Hermione almost retorted something about sexism before she remembered that she was masquerading as a man.

"Come on, Herman is it?" Nott asked. Hermione nodded.

"We go to the river and wash. Saves energy having to conjure water," Flint explained. "Three is good, two can wash, and one can stand watch."

Hermione nodded again and followed them. The camp washing was gathered in large sacks near the cookfire. Hermione had noticed right away when borrowing Gibbon's clothes that they all had his name in them. She'd thought it was odd, but now it made some sort of sense.

"Why doesn't everyone take care of their own?" Hermione asked halfway to the river.

"Takes too much time, it's more efficient to do everyone's at once," Nott answered.

The trek to the river wasn't too strenuous, but Hermione did have to levitate several of the bags. They each had, and that was tiresome, keeping all that weight in the air at once. She'd been thinking about why the Muggle-Repelling charms had fallen. It was all she could think about these days now that her immediate needs were taken care of. It had to have been an act of sabotage, right? It's not like _magic_ itself was failing. Every other part of magic worked, except the Muggle-Repelling charms. So what was it about Muggle-Repelling charms that made them fall? And who would have wanted to sabotage them? Obviously, someone who wanted to either destroy or severely damage the wizarding world. But who could that be? Hermione didn't love the post-war world, but she'd at least had hopes that it would get better. Even if her own career prospects hadn't quite panned out the way she wanted them to. She'd started at the Ministry with Harry and Ron, but had hated the bureaucracy of it all. And when George begged for help at his shop, Hermione decided to take a break from her career and help George. It wasn't just tending the till, but also helping him create the products he sold and even help refine products he was working on. It had been interesting and used a lot more skills than Hermione had originally assumed. Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, and Herbology were all heavily present in George's products. The break had been good for her, it had shown her what she really wanted to do was to create, to use her magic to build a tangible thing. Instead, of being stuck in a bureaucratic nightmare.

Thinking of George only made Hermione sad. She hoped he was alive somewhere. She'd never been more thankful for Harry and Ron's Auror training than she was now. They'd been out of the country when the Muggle-Repelling charms had fallen. She knew that they were safe. She hoped they stayed that way.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: If you haven't yet, go back and check out chapter 1. I updated the warnings and made some very minor updates to the chapter. Mostly some SPaG cleanup and adding some dates/locations.**

 **If you liked this chapter (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! You can find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or Facebook at Shan Crochetaway.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _November 2002_

 _Ministry of Defense Compound_

 _Portland Bill, UK_

Dudley Dursley had been underestimated by everyone his entire life. It started in his childhood with his smothering parents. They'd always wanted the best for him, which was an impulse he supposed he could understand. But instead of just wishing the best for him, they did their best for him. They did his homework and projects. They did everything. While Dudley just let them. He didn't even realize that the world didn't work that way until he was well on his way to flunking out of Smeltings.

His last year at Smeltings, he'd buckled down and managed to scrape good enough grades together to go to Sandhurst. His parents were shocked by the decision, but proud that their son had gotten into the prestigious military academy. His years at Sandhurst had been a bit of a revelation. Nobody underestimated him there. At Sandhurst, he'd been expected to work hard. It had also done wonders for his waistline to have to take part in physical training each day.

Dudley's feelings toward his cousin Harry Potter had always been something of a mixed bag. As a child, he often felt resentful that his parents had taken in another child. He was jealous of even the small bits of attention Harry took away from himself. The neglect and mistreatment of Harry was just his due, Dudley had thought at the time. As an adult, now it was harder to swallow. But, Harry had also been able to escape Dudley's parents. Something Dudley still hadn't managed. His dad had died during his second year at Sandhurst and Dudley hadn't even cried. Frankly, he'd been relieved that the old man wouldn't be around to ride him anymore. And then his next emotion was exhaustion and apprehension at being responsible for his mum's well-being.

After his father's death, his mum wasn't nearly as needy as Dudley had expected her to be. She'd allowed him to continue on at Sandhurst and Dudley had done everything he could only to visit a few times a year. Ensuring that she didn't get too used to him being around.

He met Rho a few weeks before he started at Sandhurst. He'd been in London, getting some last minutes supplies when it seemed she had appeared out of mid-air right in front of him. She wasn't called Rho then, but it's all she went by now. He'd been smitten from the get-go. She seemed like such a breath of fresh air compared to all of the other girls Dudley knew.

She was smart and capable, and quite the most beautiful girl Dudley had ever met. And more than all of that, she was interested in him. He'd never had a girl interested in him before. Smeltings was an all-boys boarding school, and there weren't many girls his age in the neighborhood.

Dudley hadn't entirely known what to make of Rho, and they'd kept touch throughout his Sandhurst days, which was difficult, but Rho was the one who made it happen. When he'd left Sandhurst and had been stationed at Portland Bill, Rho had made it a priority to be stationed there as well.

When the Muggle-Repelling charms fell across the country back in August, Dudley had been in a prime position to begin helping the military track and trap wizards. He'd even been one of the few people who knew something about the wizarding world. At first, Dudley had been slightly afraid to come forward, but Rho pushed him into it, and Dudley was glad she did. He was now quite high up in the command. The order was to capture or kill on sight. There would be no release. And it was absolutely not going to get out of Britain that Britain had some sort of magical population hiding among them. It was probably the same in every country, but Dudley could see as well as anyone what an international embarrassment that would be.

In fact, Dudley had led the charge into capturing several wizards and using them for experimentation. It had been an inspired move on his part, and Rho and his commander had been quite pleased; especially when they'd come out with the MUTE guns: magical use transmission equalizers. They had been something Rho had come up with and were quite brilliant the way they worked. Rho had figured out that magic was some form of radiation, and that wizards were generally immune to it. So she reverse-engineered the technology and MUTE's were born. The MUTE would never have come about if Dudley and his team hadn't captured the wizard they had.

He'd risen high enough in the command, that when they had developed the madar—a specialized radar-like machine that detected the radiation wizards let off—he had been put in charge of tracking down the largest congregation of them. Madar stood for magical detection and ranging. It worked just like radar, except it sent out small bursts of radiation to detect the radiation given off by wizards. Unfortunately, the radiation wizards possessed and used was so little, that even by finely tuning their madar there was a lot of noise, which made wizards hard to track. False positives were common, but the technology was so new that Dudley sent out a team each time they had one.

There seemed to be a large number of possible false positives near the Forest of Dean, and Dudley was beginning to suspect there was quite a large group of wizards hiding within the dense wood. A few of his team had turned up missing, never to be found. He'd begun sending them in groups of two and three after they discovered the dead body of one of his men floating in a river. The autopsy had shown no apparent cause of death, which convinced Dudley that it was wizards who had killed him with their magic.

It was strange to think that after being so terrified of Harry as a child that as an adult, he'd helped the Muggles reverse engineer the magic that had once terrified him. He still had nightmares about that damned tail the giant, Hagrid, had given him. Dudley had vowed that if he were to get his hands on Hagrid, it would not go pleasantly for Hagrid. Thinking of Hagrid made him wonder if the size of the wizard had anything to do with the amount of magic they possessed. If they had a Hagrid or something like him, would they be able to make more MUTE's? Perhaps other weapons that could take out wizards? It was an interesting thought; he'd have to run it by Rho later.

For now, he was busy planning several scouting missions into the Forest of Dean to determine if it was bad luck or truly a home to a larger population of wizards. He hoped it was the latter.

* * *

 _December 2002_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

Hermione had been in the Death Eater camp for almost two months and was slowly getting used to the harsh life of living off the land once more. This situation was both better and worse than the year she had camped with Harry and Ron: better because the Death Eaters were better able to procure food. Hermione didn't ask too many questions about it, because mostly she was grateful for going to bed with a full belly each night. It was worse because Thorfinn Rowle had made it his mission to either seduce her or drive her batty. She wasn't quite sure which most days.

She'd had some time to ponder the problem of the failed Muggle-Repelling charms and decided that the only way the wizarding world was going to survive was to figure out a way to reinstate the Muggle-Repelling charms. Or some version of them. Hermione didn't know too much about them, and as always when she didn't know about something, she wanted to research it. Hogwarts had one of the best research libraries in the country; she was sure if she could get there, she could find something to help her. So she took her thoughts to Dolohov to see if he'd allow her to try and find some information.

"What makes you think Hogwarts is even still intact?" Dolohov asked raising one dark eyebrow.

"I don't know, obviously. I just hope since it wasn't near Muggles, and Hogsmeade was entirely a wizarding village, that maybe it got overlooked," Hermione shrugged. "The point is, that if we don't do something, we're going to keep being hunted by the Muggles."

"I won't allow it," Rowle said imperiously. Rowle crossed his arms over his massive chest and Hermione had the urge to climb him like a tree. She shook her head and turned back to Dolohov.

"I wasn't asking your permission, Rowle," Hermione informed him.

The moment Hermione had arrived in Dolohov's tent, she'd taken off the necklace. She hated the way the glamour charm made her voice sound, and she still felt naked with her short hair. Rowle had followed her, as usual, and Gibbon wasn't too far behind. Yaxley had already been in the tent, conversing with Dolohov about supplies.

The moment Rowle and Gibbon had entered the tent, Rowle had spelled it, not to allow anyone else inside. He did that each time he saw Hermione without her necklace. To protect her, he insisted. Hermione was getting bloody sick of his protection.

"I don't think it's a terrible idea," Dolohov said finally, "but I'm concerned that Hogwarts is too large of a property to ensure your safety."

"Bugger my safety!" Hermione shouted. "This isn't about me, or you. It's about our world, our culture. If we don't do something, we're going to lose it for good. We'll all fucking die at the hands of the Muggles."

"Then let's kill all of the Muggles," Yaxley said with a shrug. He was the most nonchalant of the group, and Hermione found she quite liked him. At least his personality didn't rub her entirely the wrong way like Rowle's did.

"They outnumber us! There are four _thousand_ Muggles for every wizard in this country. And that's just in Britain! There is no way we can kill them all. And even if we did, then there's the rest of the world to consider. Don't you think it's strange that the Muggle-Repelling charms seemed to have only fallen in Britain? Obviously, it wasn't an accident or a quirk of magic. Someone did that deliberately. Someone wanted the wizarding world to be exposed and killed off. At this point, I'd rather protect what we can so we can figure out a way to rebuild."

"You're still not going to Hogwarts," Rowle said, stepping closer, almost into Hermione's personal space.

"I am a grown witch, Thorfinn Rowle," Hermione turned to rail at him, poking his chest. "I will do what I bloody, please. And if you even think about trying to stop me, I'll—"

"You'll not threaten me, little witch," Rowle growled, gripping her wrist tightly. She yanked on her arm, trying to free it.

"You aren't my keeper," Hermione said.

"Actually, he is," Dolohov reminded her from over her shoulder.

"Put the damned necklace on," Rowle grunted, pulling it from her pocket. "We'll talk about this privately."

He shoved the necklace over her neck and grabbed her upper arm, dragging her from Dolohov's tent.

"I'm not a fucking child," Hermione hissed as Rowle dragged her through the camp. Dolohov's tent was near the center of the camp, but the tent Hermione shared with Rowle, Yaxley, and Gibbon was on the outskirts.

"Then stop acting like one," Rowle said back, yanking her along.

The moment he had her back in their tent, he ripped the necklace off her and dropped it to the floor.

"You are under my protection, little witch," he stalked closer, and Hermione found herself backing away from him. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him this angry. But Hermione was angry too and breathing hard from the quick walk through the camp. She was at least trying to do something about their current situation, and all Rowle wanted to do was hide under a blasted rock.

"That doesn't mean you get to make decisions for me!" Hermione said. She'd backed herself into a tent pole and cursed her stupidity when Rowle was suddenly on her, his hands sinking into her hair.

"That is exactly what it means," Rowle breathed, his face just inches from hers. "It means I decide what precautions to take to keep you safe. Look around you, Granger. You see any other witches here? How do we even know there are any other witches even alive in wizarding Britain?"

Hermione sucked in a breath. She hadn't even considered that. Rowle's lips brushed her cheek as he spoke.

"You are a very precious resource. And I take my duties very seriously." His breath was hot in her ear, and Hermione was sure her knees would have buckled by now if he hadn't pinned her so tightly to the post behind her. She placed her hands on his forearms, clinging to him as his tongue swirled around the shell of her ear.

"You need to be preserved, protected, cared for," Rowle breathed, trailing wet kisses down the column of her neck. Hermione groaned at the contact and clung tighter to him. Part of her wanted to push him away—the man was positively infuriating—but the way he was making her feel right now was in complete conflict.

"Rowle," Hermione pushed his head away from her neck. His eyes glimmered at her, and his hair obscured the expression on his face.

"You want this as much as I do, little witch," Rowle murmured. "You feel it don't you?" He emphasized his words with a roll of his hips, pressing his hardened length into her belly.

"Yes, I'm constantly feeling how hard you are for me, Rowle," Hermione spat. "That doesn't mean we should do this." She tried to pull back from him, but he held her tight. She wasn't lying; she woke up most mornings with Rowle's cock hard against whatever part of her body was touching him. She'd been annoyed the first few times, but lately, she'd just been aroused and had to force herself from the bed.

"Doesn't it?" Rowle asked his lips ghosting over her own. Hermione wanted to turn her head. Honestly, she did, but her body seemed to have taken over because the next thing she knew she was pressing her lips to his.

She knew this was a mistake, but couldn't stop it from happening. Rowle tugged her closer, his fingers dug underneath the shirt she was wearing, and Hermione found herself arching into his questing hands. She moved her own hands to the bottom of his shirt, desperate to feel skin on skin. Rowle pulled back enough to allow her to shove the shirt over his head; then she took hers off as well. A quick tug from Rowle and her bra fell to pieces at their feet, and his hands were on her.

"Fuck," Hermione muttered as Rowle thumbed her nipple. She leaned her head back against the tentpole and Rowle took advantage by kissing down her neck, and nipping at her clavicle.

Hermione lifted her right leg and placed it at Rowle's hip. He got the message and reached down helping her to wrap both legs around his waist. Suddenly the cock that had been pressing insistently at Hermione's stomach was now pushing insistently at her core.

"Merlin, little witch," Rowle breathed and flexed his hips. Hermione groaned at the extra pressure.

Her body felt alight with a desire she hadn't ever felt before, and she whined in the back of her throat when Rowle pulled her away from the tent pole. The loss of the counter pressure from the pole made Hermione tighten her arms around his shoulders as he walked them to their cot. Instead of dropping her on it as Hermione had expected, he turned around and sat down on it, with Hermione perched on his lap.

"Rowle," Hermione muttered and gripped his head on either side, pulling his face up to hers. She searched his brilliant blue eyes for a moment before sliding hers closed and leaning in to cover his lips with her own. His beard scratched against her face, and Hermione found that she liked the way it felt against her skin. Rowle began fumbling with her trousers and his and soon they were completely naked.

Rowle unwrapped her legs from his waist and laid back on the bed, pulling Hermione down on top of him. His skin was sinfully hot beneath her fingers, and Hermione loved the way his chest hair felt under her palms. She sat up, sliding her core against his length, her palms pressed to his chest and her hair falling around them.

He slid his hands down to her waist and helped settle her over him. A twist of her hips and he slipped inside her. He was large and stretched her deliciously. She rocked herself around his length until he was entirely buried inside. His hands gripped her hips tightly, urging her to move, but Hermione took her time with it. If Rowle had wanted control, he could have been on top. She moved slowly, deliberately rocking with the smallest amount of movements.

"Fuck, move," Rowle ordered with a groan as he flexed his hips, attempting to fuck her from below.

Hermione increased her pace very, very slightly. She wasn't sure how long she could keep this up, but the look on his face had her nipples tightening. He threw his head back, and the cords of his neck stood out as he strained, urging her to move, to give him the friction he so desperately craved.

"Granger," Rowle growled.

Hermione couldn't stop a snort of laughter. "Probably should call me Hermione when your cock is buried inside me."

"Little witch," Rowle breathed and pulled her on top of him. He twisted his body, and suddenly she was on her back, with him looming above her.

Hermione groaned when he began moving deeper inside her and wrapped her legs around his waist, tilting her hips to get a better angle.

"Better hold on," Rowle grunted and began driving into her at a pace so quick that Hermione was sure he wouldn't be able to sustain it long enough for her to orgasm. But he surprised her, as he was wont to do because the pace seemed to be just right for her.

"Fuck, Thorfinn," Hermione groaned as the tension wound tighter and tighter inside her. She was so fucking close and just need a little more. Rowle had himself pressed so tightly to her body that she couldn't have slipped a hand between them if she tried. Rowle added a small twist with each pump of his hips, and it was just enough to hit that spot inside her that drove her crazy. She screamed through her climax as it washed over her with the speed of a freight train.

"Merlin, that was fucking hot," Rowle hissed as she came down from her high. He was still pumping in and out furiously, and Hermione found that she was sensitive enough that another orgasm was on the horizon.

Hermione was not going to beg him; she was not going to give in to him. But a tiny muttered, "Please," escaped her anyway and she caught the small smirk Rowle gave when he heard it.

"Gladly little witch," Rowle replied, and soon Hermione was cresting another wave of climatic bliss. This time she brought Rowle over the edge with her and soon they were both panting on the tiny camp bed, trying to recover their breath. Hermione wanted to argue with him some more, but he refused to let her up. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her back to his chest, spooning himself around her.

* * *

 _December 2002_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

The following morning, Hermione attempted to get Rowle to see reason regarding the Muggle-Repelling charms. This time she had Gibbon firmly on her side.

"You can't know that Hogwarts wasn't ransacked, Granger," Rowle said furiously.

"And you can't know that it was! And even if it was, there are other places to look. We have to try."

"Thorfinn, she's right," Gibbon said quietly, and Hermione tried very hard not to do a happy dance.

Dolohov sighed, and Hermione knew he was about to give in. He'd mostly been backing up Rowle throughout the argument, but Hermione was sure that little sigh was going to be him caving to her and Gibbon.

"You know I hate to agree with them Thor," Dolohov began. "But the status quo cannot last forever."

Rowle looked hurt by his friends, "But why does it have to be her." He gestured at Hermione helplessly, and Hermione felt her breath hitch. They may have slept together, but Hermione hadn't assumed he had actual feelings beyond possessiveness toward her. The sound of his voice indicated otherwise, and Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to examine her feelings for the hulking wizard.

"Because she's the smartest," Gibbon replied. "If anyone here has a hope of figuring this mess out and saving the rest of us: it's her."

Hermione tried not to blush at the praise, but she wasn't entirely successful and judging by the darkening look on Rowle's face, he'd caught it too.

"Then I'm going with," Rowle demanded.

Dolohov sighed again, "Rowle, you can't. You're needed at the camp. You're my enforcer."

"She doesn't go anywhere without me," Rowle insisted stubbornly.

"You think I can't protect her?" Gibbon asked quietly. Hermione felt the hair stand on the back of her neck. She hadn't given much thought to who would accompany her if they did decide to do this. Gibbon was brilliant and frankly, out of all of them, he scared her the most. He was the one who had coaxed her into casting the Killing Curse at a Muggle after all. It was clear that Rowle and Dolohov also respected Gibbon's power when Dolohov deferred to him, and Rowle immediately backed down.

"Of course, I know you can protect her Connor," Rowle replied. "It's just…" he trailed off, seemingly unable or unwilling to put into words his feelings.

Gibbon clapped Rowle on the shoulder and took him aside. They held a quiet, whispered conversation in the corner. Hermione was dying to know what was said when Dolohov pulled her aside.

"Be careful, Granger," Dolohov said gruffly.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him, "I didn't know you cared, Dolohov."

"I care because Thor cares. I care because you are the first witch we've found in months. And believe me, we're looking." Dolohov wiped his hand down his face, and Hermione felt guilty for acting like a prat.

"Do you think it's because the Muggles are targeting witches? Or is it because wizards are bolder?" She'd been thinking about it a lot ever since Rowle had mentioned it to her the night before.

"I can't say. I can only hope it's the latter and not the former. Because if it's the former, then once the wizarding world is established and secure once more, it's going to get very dark ages."

Hermione wanted to laugh at the implication, but he was very obviously serious. The dark ages were a difficult time for wizards and Hermione shuddered at the thought that they might be headed for a time when wizards stole and raped Muggle women just to get them with a child.

"I'll be careful," Hermione said quietly. "Will Rowle be effective with me gone?"

"Unlikely," Dolohov said. "But you have to go. You know what to look for, and Connor is the easiest one of us to be out of sight. People don't like him for some reason." Dolohov sounded slightly confused about that, and Hermione found herself snorting.

"Of course, people don't like him. He's fucking creepy," she replied. "And intense. The way he stares at you," she shuddered for effect, "it's off-putting."

"I hadn't noticed," Dolohov replied, turning his attention from Rowle and Gibbon's whispered conversation and to her. She tried to keep her blush under control, but something about these wizards seemed to bring it out in her. "He's not going to be a problem is he?"

Hermione wasn't sure what Dolohov was asking. Did he think that Hermione would sleep with Gibbon too? Did Dolohov even know what she and Rowle had done last night? She certainly hadn't said anything to anyone, but Gibbon had caught them snogging several weeks ago. Perhaps it was common knowledge.

She cleared her throat. "No." She didn't know what else to say, but Dolohov seemed to accept it for an answer. Rowle and Gibbon seemed to be finished with their conversation, and neither of them looked very happy. Hermione was desperate to know what they talked about, but she didn't get a chance to ask because Rowle crossed the tent in three long strides and had his arms wrapped around her. He pressed his lips to hers in a fierce, hard kiss that left Hermione gasping.

"Be careful," he whispered to her, and then Summoned her necklace and slipped it over her head.

 _Well, if Dolohov and Gibbon didn't know, they do now_ , she thought to herself as she pushed past Rowle to find Gibbon looking at her with a carefully blank face. She wasn't truly scared of Gibbon, but the look he gave her now was somewhat frightening. Hermione turned to look back at Rowle and Dolohov. Both were looking at her. Rowle looked anguished and Dolohov speculative. She wanted to curse Rowle for his display but didn't have a chance to because Gibbon gripped her wrist suddenly and Apparated them away.

They landed just outside the gates of Hogwarts. The weather was cold and blustery, the ground wet with snow and slush.

"Anti-Apparition wards are still up," Gibbon muttered and pushed against the gates. They were closed but not locked and opened easily under his touch. The grounds appeared abandoned, Hagrid's hut was empty and the door hanging open. A small snow drift was just inside the door. Hermione shuddered, and she wasn't entirely sure it was from the cold. Hogwarts was eery, and it was strange to think that students should be here and weren't. Hermione wondered what happened to them. Had they gotten out in time?

"You don't think…" Hermione trailed off; she wasn't sure she could put into words her thoughts. She tugged off her necklace and slipped it in her pocket. She hated the way her voice sounded with it on.

"I don't know," Gibbon shook his head. "I hope everyone got out in time."

Hermione felt sick. So far, they hadn't come across a single soul. She hoped it stayed that way.

The doors to the castle were standing open, and just as with Hagrid's hut, there was a small pile of snow that had blown in. The castle was empty and disturbingly quiet. Hermione felt relief when they didn't immediately come upon any bodies. She didn't think the Muggles would leave bodies behind, likely taking them to study. But the thought had crossed her mind and refused to leave until she'd seen for herself. She took a deep breath, almost sighing her relief into the air.

"No bodies," Gibbon said quietly but pointed at what was a bloodstain from a bullet wound on the wall.

"Oh, sweet Godric," Hermione moaned and felt faint at the sight. She wavered on her feet and felt a pair of arms slip around her.

"Stay with me," Gibbon muttered. Hermione took strength and comfort from his arms and willed herself to stay standing. She didn't want to think about what sort of horrors a castle full of children would have endured at the hands of the Muggle law enforcement.

"We don't know what happened, but let's just hope for the best. Keep your eyes down," Gibbon instructed. Hermione nodded and looked at her feet. The floor was blissfully clear of any bloody and Gibbon guided her through the castle to the library on the second floor. It took Hermione a moment to realize that Gibbon was casting Cleaning charms as they went and a wave of nausea rolled through her. She couldn't bear to see Hogwarts bloodied again. Not after the horrors of the final battle.

They finally made it to the library only to discover it was empty.

"Motherfucker," Gibbon muttered. "What a waste of time."

"Where do you think they took them?" Hermione asked as she looked at the barren shelves. It saddened her to think of the Muggles with their hands on this much knowledge.

"Frankly, I hope they burned them," Gibbon replied.

Hermione gasped. "Burned them?"

"At least they wouldn't be able to learn from them," Gibbon shrugged.

If Hermione thought burning books was terrible, the idea of Muggles learning about magic and learning ways to counteract magic was worse.

"Oh fuck," she muttered.

"Exactly. Well, come on, princess, there's nothing here."

"What about the Headmistress' rooms?" Hermione asked. "She might have some books."

"If they emptied the library, they emptied everything." Gibbon took her arm and began pulling her from the library.

"But her rooms would have been password protected." Hermione fought his hold. She had been so sure that Hogwarts would have yielded her answers.

Gibbon dropped her arm and whirled on her. "Do you see any ghosts, princess? What about portraits? Any of them either? If the Muggles were able to breach Hogwarts, then that means they breached all of Hogwarts. I'm not going up to the Headmistress' office just to find more of the same."

"Fine," Hermione said. "I will though. I have to have hope that there's something, anything here." Hermione darted around him and stepped into the corridor. She looked up toward the stairs and almost fell over at the amount of blood that covered them.

"Oh, Merlin," she muttered and would have crumpled to the floor had Gibbon not caught her in time. "It was a fucking bloodbath."

Gibbon's face tightened in fury as he held Hermione up. "Come on, princess. Let's go."

This time Hermione went with him willingly. She didn't have the power to fight him. Nor the will to do so. Hogwarts was a bust.

Gibbon guided her out of the castle, and Hermione kept her face downcast as he led her out onto the grounds. He pulled her close and Apparated her away. When they landed, she stepped back, assuming they were back at the Death Eater camp and shocked to find that they weren't.

"Where are we?" Hermione asked looking around. They appeared to be on a moor; there was a stately manor house in the distance.

"Gibbon Park," Gibbon said. "I figured that even if Hogwarts was overrun, perhaps not every old Pureblood estate had been." He shrugged, and Hermione smiled at him. That was a stroke of genius. There were lots of Pureblood manors that were probably better protected than Hogwarts had been.

"Did you have any living relatives?" Hermione asked as they made their way down the dirt lane toward the house.

Gibbon shook his head. "I'm the last of the Gibbons. The Ministry must have put up an Anti-Apparition ward after my imprisonment. I had been aiming for the front hall."

They came across a set of iron gates with a script G inlaid into them. Gibbon touched them, and they melted away, revealing a much shorter drive than had appeared from the road. Some sort of Mirage charm must have been in place then. Hermione hoped that meant Gibbon Park was untouched by the Muggles.

"My library wasn't as large as Hogwarts, and certainly not as large as the Malfoy library, but it was decent," Gibbon said as they approached the front doors of the Manor.

Gibbon reached out his hand once more, touching the doors and they melted away, and he guided Hermione inside.

Gibbon Park was like a mausoleum, empty and the furniture all covered in dust cloths. It was depressing in a different way than Hogwarts had been. Gibbon led her through the rooms until they reached the library which was fully stocked with books.

"Jackpot," Gibbon said with a sound of relief. Hermione grinned at him and dove into the library headfirst. She searched the catalog looking for anything about Muggle-Repelling charms and charm theory in general. Even history of charms would be applicable. She'd soon accumulated a giant pile of books to bring back with her.

"Why don't we just move the camp into here?" Hermione asked Gibbon as they shrank the stack of books to bring them back with them.

"And be sitting ducks? At least out there, we can move the camp if necessary. Easier to hide in the trees then be trapped if the Muggles find us."

Hermione nodded at his logic, but still sort of wished they had time for her to take a bath. She missed baths. Hermione sighed and shrank the last of the books before she felt a pair of hands settle onto her waist from behind. She stiffened.

Gibbon buried his face in Hermione's hair, right at the crook of her neck and breathed deeply. Hermione shivered at his touch. She certainly didn't feel her body responding to Gibbon as it had to Rowle, and secretly, she was thankful for it. Her emotions toward Rowle were fraught enough without adding other romantic entanglements to the mix.

"Gibbon," Hermione said, a warning in her voice as she tried to remove herself from his embrace.

"Fuck, princess," Gibbon whined, holding her steady and pressing himself against her bum. She could feel that he was rock hard and had it been Rowle, she knew she would have felt her breathing increase, but it wasn't Rowle. It mostly made her feel uncomfortable, and she pushed his hands off her hips, stepping firmly away.

"I can't," she said without elaborating.

"Is it Thor?" Gibbon asked. She looked at him over her shoulder and could see how tense and angry he was. She wasn't quite scared of him but felt slightly apprehensive.

"It's complicated," Hermione said instead of confirming that it was Rowle she was thinking about.

Gibbon's lips tightened, and he turned away from her, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. Hermione began loading her pockets with the shrunken books. When she was finished, she found Gibbon watching her, his face a careful mask. She met his eye and nodded. He didn't respond and turned on his heal, leading her back out of the house and past the Anti-Apparition wards.

"I trust you can Apparate yourself to the camp?" Gibbon asked.

Hermione nodded, gripping her wand tightly and they both disappeared with a pop. When she re-appeared, Gibbon was nowhere to be found.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** **If you liked this chapter (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! You can find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or Facebook at Shan Crochetaway. My only beta is Grammarly; all other mistakes are mine.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Updated A/N: Thanks to both HaveCourageAndBeKind and Aleique for pointing out that I had the year wrong for February. Whoops! It's been fixed now! Thanks again for the heads up!**

* * *

 _September 2002_

 _Ministerie van Toverkunst_

 _Amsterdam, Netherlands_

Harry Potter was frustrated. More frustrated than he had probably ever been in his life, including the year leading up to Voldemort's defeat. He and Ron had been on a mission in Bulgaria when the Muggle-Repelling charms in Britain fell. Ron had wanted to run home immediately, but Harry had cautioned against it. They went to the nearest Ministry, the _Ministerie van Toverkunst_ in Amsterdam to see what they could find out. At first, Harry thought they would learn what they could and then return home. But now it had been more than a month, and there was still no word from Britain. The Netherlands and the rest of the wizarding world, including France had put a travel ban on Britain. No wizard could travel to Britain until communication could be established. Harry and Ron were going spare.

Ron had written to his family every single day since word came to them about the Muggle-Repelling charms. Either the owls weren't getting through, or they were, and owls weren't getting out, because they never got a response. Sometimes the owls would come back, but they wouldn't have a letter on them. Sometimes they wouldn't come back at all.

"We just have to risk it, mate," Ron said. "Let's get on one of the muggle aerospace thingies and get there. Or a boat. I'd do a boat. Is there a ferry?"

"Ron, we can't," Harry said for the umpteenth time just that day. "The latest word is that they think the Muggles in Britain have created some sort of magic scanner. If they scan us, they'll know we're wizards, and we'll be caught."

"I don't care, Harry! It's my family! It's Ginny! And Hermione! Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Ron shouted.

"Of course, it does Ron!" Harry was hurt, even though he knew Ron was just as frustrated as he was. "Of course, I care. I want to go too, but we have to figure out a way to get to Britain safely. We'll be of no use to anyone if we're caught immediately."

"I'm not staying here another night," Ron said stubbornly. "I'm just not. I'll rent a rowboat if I have to."

"Alright," Harry placated. "I might have found someone who can give us a lift. A Muggle."

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Ron asked a hurt expression on his face.

"I wanted to vet him some more, make sure he was legit. But you're right. We can't just sit on our heels over here when our family needs us."

"Too right," Ron nodded.

Harry didn't love the idea about hitching a ride with the Muggle with the boat, but he was at his wit's end as much as Ron was. There was something about the Muggle that felt off to Harry, but he was desperate.

"Alright, let's go then." Harry and Ron Apparated to the docks at IJmuiden. The docks were a maze of boats and Harry followed the directions from the Muggle he'd been speaking with. He could only hope that the sick feeling he had was due to nerves at sneaking into Muggle Britain.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

A block from the docks they were ambushed, by Muggle soldiers carrying guns. Harry and Ron both fought back valiantly, but there must have been someone magical nearby helping because Anti-Apparition wards had been erected.

"Fuck, I can't Apparate," Ron hissed as his shield charm fell to a hail of bullets. They both ducked around the closest automobile.

"Same," Harry grunted, firing off a curse at a Muggle sticking his head around the corner.

"What are we going to do?" Ron asked, his voice just starting to sound slightly panicky.

"Fight them off. Guns kill people Ron. It's like firing an Avada Kedavra every time," Harry said coldly. "Stun them, do whatever you can, but we're getting out of this alive."

The next thing Harry knew, Ron was lying flat on his back on the pavement. A bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.

"Fuck!" Harry screamed and stood and began casting as quickly as he knew how everything in his arsenal. He didn't think to look behind him and felt something hit the back of his head before he too was lying on the ground.

The soldier who stood over Harry lifted his helmet and Harry was sure he knew him. "Dudley?" he whispered before the blackness at the edges of his vision overwhelmed him once more.

* * *

 _August 2002_

 _Diagon Alley_

 _London, England_

Hermione thought she was dreaming. She and George had closed up the shop the day that the Muggle-Repelling Charms fell, but she went back the next day and the day after that, in hoped that the charms would be fixed. They never were. Nobody was coming to Diagon Alley to shop, and it had been almost a week since the Muggle-Repelling Charms had failed. The Ministry was acting as if it wasn't a big deal and the _Daily Prophet_ had nothing useful in it as usual.

She knew she was dreaming when she heard the boots marching in rhythm on the cobblestones of the Alley. It was the one clear memory of the day and had reminded Hermione at the time of the old films of German soldiers marching for Hitler during World War II. It chilled her to the bone when she heard it that day in the alley. She watched in horrified fascination as a troop of Muggle soldiers stormed the hole where the Leaky Cauldron had once been and began shooting.

"George!" she screamed as the glass in front of her shattered, and she ran toward the back of the store where George was minding the till. "We have to go!"

She and George ran toward the back entrance of the store and found it blocked by more soldiers.

"Up! Come on, 'Mione!" George pulled her along as he took the stairs two at a time.

"We'll be trapped!" Hermione puffed, following as quickly as she could and try to create a distraction for the soldiers behind her while she was at it. She knocked over displays and sent anything she could think of at the soldiers.

"I've got two brooms up there," George muttered, and Hermione nodded. She hated flying, but flying was preferable to death.

They reached the top of the building, and George pulled out his and Fred's old broom. "Fly to the Burrow," George said.

"Disillusion yourself first," Hermione reminded him. She offered him a smile, and he pulled her in for a tight hug before they Disillusioned themselves and took off out the window.

Hermione didn't make it to the Burrow. Her broom was unsteady in her hands, and when she almost collided with an owl, she fell off the broom.

* * *

 _February 2003_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

"Wake up, little witch," someone breathed into her ear, and Hermione's eyes popped open. She sat up abruptly breathing heavily. Rowle was there, one of his large hands was smoothing down her back as she panted.

"Shhh, it's alright," Rowle crooned. "Just a dream, princess. You're alright."

Slowly, Hermione's breathing calmed. She brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, burying her face into her legs. It had felt so real. The flight through the store and out the window on the broom. She had Disapparated in mid-air and landed in her back garden. Her heart was beating so fast that for several long moments she had laid on the ground, thinking she was dead. She wasn't dead. It had been awful, and by the time she felt herself again, she remembered George. She sent him a Patronus, saying she was fine, but got nothing back. She didn't know what that meant.

"Want to talk about it?" Rowle asked softly.

Hermione shook her head. She really didn't. She didn't want to talk about anything. Instead, she turned to face Rowle, pushing him onto his back and scrambled up to straddle his hips.

"I don't want to think," she muttered as she leaned down and pressed her lips to his.

Rowle groaned his agreement and opened his mouth to her onslaught. He had one arm around her waist, a hand gripping her backside, pressing her hips into his and the other cupped the back of her neck, holding her so gently. Hermione didn't want gentle though. She wanted something hard, fast, brutal. Something that would make her forget. So she bit Rowle's bottom lip. Not quite hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make him gasp. He groaned, and his kisses became feverish.

A moment later and Hermione was on her back her hands above her head as Rowle whispered something to make them stay there. She tugged and confirmed her suspicion when they didn't move.

"Rowle," she growled at him as he began kissing his way down her throat. "Untie me!"

Rowle chuckled lowly and shushed her. "Don't want to wake Connor or Talen now do you?" He raised his head and grinned at her. "Unless perhaps you like the thought of them watching you?"

Hermione gritted her teeth and glared at him, but Rowle had been sneaking a hand up her leg and soon was cupping her mons. She arched into his touch, her anger momentarily forgotten as his fingers slid along her knickers. Soon, she knew she was soaking through them and her breath caught in her throat as he slowly eased them down her legs.

"Please," she panted when he ran his hands up her legs, not touching anything of importance.

"You'll need to be quiet," Rowle rumbled softly. "I haven't put up a privacy charm. Think you can handle that, little witch?"

Hermione nodded, she knew the stakes. Gibbon had been unbelievably angry with her after she'd turned him down just a few months ago and he still hadn't quite forgiven her. She'd treaded as lightly as possible, and Rowle had been surprisingly tactful. This was the first time he'd ever suggested fooling around with Gibbon in the tent. It felt naughty, and a low thrill hummed through Hermione at the idea of possibly getting caught.

"Good," Rowle murmured and lowered his head. He threw her right leg over his shoulder and pressed her thighs open as far as they could go while he licked her from arsehole to clit. Hermione tossed her head back, desperate for a moan, but settled for a sharp exhale instead. Rowle was scandalously good at eating her out, and Hermione loved it. His beard scratched the delicate skin of her thighs, and it burned for days afterward. It was a burn that Hermione relished. So far, she'd kept all thoughts and feelings for Rowle bundled up in a spot in her brain where she didn't analyze them. But the longer this went on, the more she felt for the man.

Slowly, he inserted one and then a second and third finger inside her, pumping in time with the taps to her clit with his tongue, and it was driving Hermione to distraction. She wished she could run her fingers through his hair, pull his face closer to her, grinding herself on him. Instead, she twisted her fingers into the sheets beneath her tied hands and arched her back as much as he would allow. He placed one arm over her hips, keeping her in place and it was incredibly sexy to be held in such a manner. She had never thought she'd be one to go for someone as brawny as Rowle, but she couldn't deny that he was fucking delicious.

He pulled away and murmured, "Stop thinking, or this is going to take all night."

Hermione moaned softly and nodded. He was right; she had to get out of her head and just let herself feel. She concentrated on his movements, and it wasn't long before she was burying her face into her shoulder, biting the skin there to keep herself quiet as she careened over the edge of her climax.

Rowle gave no quarter and entered her swiftly. His rhythm was hard and fast and a little cruel and precisely what Hermione had wanted. She wrapped her legs around him, digging her heels into the back of his thighs, urging him on. He held himself above her as he pistoned in and out, hitting every erogenous spot inside her. It didn't take long for her to come again, this time clenching down so hard on his cock that he could barely move. He followed her shortly and collapsed on top of her, panting.

He rolled them, so her back was to his chest and with another whispered word and her hands were free. He put one arm under her neck and cupped both wrists, ensuring that there wasn't any chafing. He kissed them tenderly and if Hermione hadn't been in a post-orgasmic state of bliss she surely would have swooned at the aftercare.

"Go to sleep, little witch," Rowle muttered into her ear.

"Thanks," Hermione whispered back and snuggled deeper into his warmth.

* * *

 _February 2003_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

The following morning Hermione wasn't doing her usual washing with Flint and Nott. Instead, she and Gibbon were squirrelled away in their tent looking through all the books they had found in the last few months. Hermione was trying to find the original theory on Muggle-Repelling Charms, but it was such an old branch of magic that she was having trouble. All of the Muggle-Repelling charms fell, and when new ones were put in place, they didn't work. So something with the charm itself was broken, but since Hermione didn't know the theory behind the charm, she didn't know how to fix it.

It was a tedious process, and Gibbon was icy at best. She didn't feel that comfortable with him, but Rowle assured her that he was fine. Hermione didn't ever plan to ask Gibbon whether he was fine, not with the way he looked at her as if she were a bug beneath his shoe. But she needed the help, especially the help of someone who had been born and raised in wizarding culture. There was so much locked away in his brain that Hermione couldn't even begin to guess at. It was time's like this that she felt bitter about her status as a Muggleborn. She felt like maybe this was a problem that would have been easy for her to solve if she'd had the benefit of growing up in a wizarding household.

"Are Muggle-Repelling Charms tied to runes at all?" Hermione finally broke the chilly silence between her and Gibbon.

Gibbon glared at her. "No."

Hermione held back the sigh she desperately wanted to release. Dolohov and Rowle may think that Gibbon was a genius, but he wasn't very helpful for Hermione. Maybe she could head to Dolohov's tent later and pick his brain. He was rather intelligent and had been a curse-breaker at one point. Perhaps he would know a bit about it.

She put down the book she was reading and rubbed her eyes. "Right, I'm going for a walk," she muttered and threw the necklace Rowle had given her over her neck. She was thankful that glamor charms were her disguise versus polyjuice potion. She shuddered at the thought of Barty Crouch Jr taking polyjuice for an entire year to become Mad-Eye Moody.

Without a word from Gibbon, she felt his eyes on her back, as she walked out of their tent and toward Dolohov's. If Gibbon couldn't be helpful then hopefully, Dolohov would be. Dolohov at least seemed to _like_ her. Whereas, Gibbon treated her with contempt; ever since she'd turned him down two months ago in his family estate. At the time she hadn't overthought it, except that she'd literally just slept with Rowle and Rowle would probably kill both her and Gibbon if Hermione had acted on any of the slight feelings she had toward Gibbon. But now, she shuddered to think of actually sleeping with Gibbon. He scared her. He frightened her in a way she hadn't been since that awful night in Malfoy Manor. She shuddered and tried to put him out of her mind as she entered Dolohov's tent.

Dolohov and Yaxley both looked up from their discussion but went back to it. Rowle was nowhere in sight, probably out helping one of the crews. It wasn't but a few moments later when Dolohov and Yaxley broke off their discussion to address her.

"Herman," Dolohov said pointedly. He was the only one of the four who knew her secret who always addressed her as such. "What are you doing here? I thought you and Gibbon were researching."

"The books we have are useless. What I need is something about the beginnings of the Muggle-Repelling Charm. When did they first come into fashion? How were they laid? I have a hunch that all subsequent Muggle-Repelling Charms rely on the originals, which is why they are failing. Someone did something to the originals to make them fail, and if I can't figure out what there won't be any way to recreate them. Or fix them. I need more research material."

"You've been to half a dozen wizarding homes. Haven't you found enough?" Dolohov asked.

Yaxley sat back and watched them argue, a little half-smirk on his face that Hermione felt like wiping off with a slap.

"Obviously not, Dolohov," she spat. "We have to fix it. Not fixing it means the end of the wizarding world. And it means that the Muggles will start to spread the news about the wizarding world to other Muggles. I suspect the only reason they haven't yet is because we're an island. Do you want to live in this fucking forest forever?"

"Of course not, but I don't know what other homes there are to check. Half the ones you already have been to were empty. We can't risk losing you," Dolohov pointed out. At some point, he'd stood from his seat at the table and was now towering over her. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him. She didn't like the reminder that they all thought she was a precious resource. Or the reminder that were they not to find other witches, they'd be forced to use Muggle women to continue the wizarding world.

"I am more than a breeder," Hermione snapped. "I can figure this out; I just need more information! Maybe I need someone who's willing to fucking speak to me too! Gibbon is useless."

"Glad to see where I rate," Gibbon drawled icily from behind her.

Hermione stiffened, she hadn't realized he'd followed her. She didn't know what to do. Gibbon still fucking terrified her and she didn't want to give him a reason to hate her. Or more of a reason rather, but the flap of the tent told her he'd walked out already.

"Fuck," she whispered and looked over her shoulder to confirm her suspicions. "Why does he hate me so much?"

"Because you're fucking his best friend," Dolohov snapped.

Hermione snapped her mouth closed with a click and made to leave the tent. She needed to make things right with Gibbon, but Dolohov grabbed her arm stopping her.

"Talen, go after him," Dolohov commanded. Yaxley stood slowly, unfolding his massive body with a stretch before leaving the tent to follow Gibbon.

"I should apologize," Hermione said.

"Probably, but he's not going to listen to it from you."

Hermione nodded and pulled her arm out of Dolohov's grasp.

"Are Muggle-Repelling charms tied to runes?" It was the same question she'd asked Gibbon. She didn't think Gibbon lied to her, but it was possible he didn't know the answer. Despite everyone thinking he was brilliant.

"I'm not sure," Dolohov replied tilting his head to the side and looking lost in thought for a moment. "Perhaps? I never studied charms too thoroughly."

Hermione nodded. "I think that the originals must have been. Tied to runes and laid into the foundations or bricks of the buildings. Temporary Muggle-Repelling charms are all just children of the originals; they must pull on the magic of the originals in order to work. It's the only thing that makes sense. The only reason why Muggle-Repelling charms stopped working entirely."

"I hadn't thought of that. Have you found anything on the origination of Muggle-Repelling charms?"

"No," Hermione shook her head. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. I need to find a book that discusses how they came about. Not just how to cast them, but the origins of the first spells."

Dolohov sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'll ask some of the older pure-bloods about their family properties."

"Thanks, Dolohov." Hermione smiled at him. She knew he had a tough job and did what he could to make the camp better for everyone who lived there. "Have you found any other enclaves?"

One of the camp's main priorities was to try and find other wizards and witches. It was hard with the majority of them being Death Eaters. Often when they did find another small pocket of magical folk, they wanted nothing to do with them, unless they were convinced with the superior numbers and the access to food. And when they did find those small populations, there were never any witches.

"We found four wizards yesterday. They were close to starvation, so we brought them in. Still no witches."

A thought suddenly occurred to Hermione. "Is it possible that the witches are hiding like I'm hiding?"

Dolohov shrugged, "Maybe? And if they are, I can't really begrudge them, can I?"

Hermione snorted a small laugh. No, he couldn't. It had been Dolohov's idea after all that she masquerade around camp as a boy.

Their conversation was interrupted when Yaxley came back into the tent.

"He Disapparated," Yaxley shrugged. "Couldn't exactly follow him."

Dolohov's mouth tightened into a grim line.

"Perhaps Rowle and I should move to a different tent," Hermione suggested. "If this is going to be such a problem for Gibbon…"

"Or you could just not fuck him, Granger," Yaxley glared at her.

It was Hermione's turn for her face to tighten. Yaxley wasn't wrong, but Rowle was a force of nature and Hermione had a hard time telling him no. Especially with the insane amounts of sexual chemistry between them. And why should she? Why should she have to change any of her sexual habits because some other man was jealous?

"Listen up, you pig-headed misogynist," Hermione spat. "What I do with my body and with whom is nobody else's fucking business. It's not my fucking problem if Gibbon or you or anyone else can't deal with it. This is pretty fucking miserable for me, you know? If my one consolation is getting my fucking rocks off with Rowle, than what does it matter?"

Yaxley was about to say something when Hermione cut him off again.

"And if you fucking think it matters then I'll leave. I don't need to stay here with you. I can go somewhere else. Maybe even get off the island completely. I've had it up to here with you arseholes telling me what I can and can't do!"

"Alright, calm down," Dolohov's tone was soft and gentle. "Nobody wants you to leave, Hermione."

Hermione was startled to hear her first name. It was Herman from Dolohov and those who didn't know her and Granger from pretty much everyone else.

"Talen didn't mean it, and I'll talk to Gibbon, alright? Maybe you're right. Maybe you and Rowle should have your own tent."

Hermione eyed them both skeptically for a moment before she slowly nodded her head. She didn't want to leave the Death Eater encampment. She especially didn't want to leave Rowle, but she was also not planning to be treated as if she was a fucking commodity to be passed around. Rowle at least never treated her like that. It was one of the reasons her heart had latched on to him so quickly. That and he was bloody fantastic at getting her off.

"Talen, what about your family estate?" Dolohov asked, changing the subject abruptly.

"What about it?" Yaxley asked. Hermione sighed. Yaxley was pretty to look at, but there wasn't much going on between his ears.

"Do you think it's intact? Was there a decent library? Any older tomes?" Dolohov asked.

Yaxley thought for a moment. "I think my grandmother's house is under the Fidelius Charm actually. She had a bloody huge library."

"Seriously?" Hermione asked incredulously. All these weeks she and Gibbon had been going to places all over the country looked for books and Yaxley had a house at his disposal under the Fidelius Charm that he conveniently forgot to mention to anyone?

"Can you take Herman there?"

"Sure," Yaxley shrugged.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Yaxley was an idiot. "Let's go then."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Phew! It's been ages since I updated this, sorry about that! RL and other fics got in the way. We're almost halfway through this fic though, and I'm hoping to begin updating on a semi-regular basis from now on!**

 **If you liked this chapter (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! You can find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or Facebook at Shan Crochetaway. My only beta is Grammarly; all other mistakes are mine.**

* * *

 _October 2002_

 _Ministry of Defense Compound_

 _Portland Bill, UK_

* * *

Dudley straightened himself as he walked into the prisoner's cell. It looked much less like a cell and much more like a hospital room. The prisoner was strapped to the bed and hooked up to several different kinds of machines. Some of them were machines even Dudley didn't understand. But Rho did. Somehow she knew exactly what sort of machines to build in order to do what they were doing to the prisoner. He was hooked up to one device that was siphoning the magic out of Harry. It was fascinating to watch. Magic was like every color of the rainbow as it came out of Harry's head and into the machine Rho had built.

They were using that magic to power a device that they were tentatively calling a MUTE gun: magical use transmission equalizer. It made a magical person lose their magical ability if the MUTE was pointed at the magical person. It didn't last forever, but long enough that military personnel could then subdue the magical being the usual way.

And of course, none of it would have been possible without the prisoner. Logically it was easier to keep calling him the prisoner instead of his name. His real name, hurt Dudley to hear, although, he'd never admit it to anyone.

The prisoner moaned, he was slowly coming up from his sedation. Dudley wanted to have a few words with him before knocking him out again. He wanted the prisoner to know who was doing this to him.

"Are you sure?" Rho asked. She insisted on wearing a head covering when in the prisoner's room. She wouldn't tell Dudley why, but he knew her past was painful. He didn't press her for more details than she was willing to give.

"Yes. He should know who's doing this to him and why," Dudley said quietly.

"D-Dudley?" the prisoner's voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper.

Dudley found his mother's green eyes looking back at him. Dudley had always found it unfair that Harry had gotten the clear green eyes their mother's shared, while Dudley was stuck with the dull, muddy brown he inherited from his father.

"Hello, Harry," Dudley said. He kept his face neutral, although, he desperately wanted to smirk.

"Where am I?" Harry asked, looking around the room blearily.

"A military compound. You are being used for research," Rho answered for him. Her voice sounded weirdly deep like she was trying to mask it. Another secret she wanted to keep from the prisoner. That was fine with Dudley. Rho didn't know that Harry was really Dudley's cousin and not his foster brother. Dudley hadn't explained to her. He didn't want anyone to know he was actually _related_ to someone who had magic. Revulsion rolled through him at the thought, and he hardened his face.

"Who are you?" Harry asked Rho. Rho didn't respond. She checked a few of his vital signs and the machines Harry was hooked up to. Harry asked again, but Rho ignored him.

"It doesn't matter who they are," Dudley said finally, indicating Rho. "What matters is that you are now instrumental in the downfall of your own people."

"Dudley, we shouldn't tell him too much," Rho cautioned.

Dudley nodded. "Let's put him back under."

"No, wait!" Harry shouted.

* * *

 _October 2002_

 _Ministry of Defense Compound_

 _Portland Bill, UK_

* * *

Rho didn't know for sure that Dudley was Harry Potter's cousin, but she strongly suspected it. Dudley had said he'd had a foster brother who was magical, but Harry Potter hadn't had a Muggle foster brother. He'd had a Muggle cousin. It made sense that Dudley would want to obscure that, so Rho decided not to say anything about it. She did find it absolutely fascinating that Dudley wanted to torture his own cousin like this. What Potter must have done to deserve this, Rho couldn't fathom. She knew what he'd done to _her_ , and that was enough.

"What, Harry?" Dudley snapped, bringing Rho out of her reverie. She focussed back on the scene before her, watching both men from beneath her cowl.

"Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you?" Potter begged.

"Do? It's what you did and didn't do, Harry!" Dudley fairly shouted. Rho winced at the noise and tried to shush her boyfriend.

"Then what didn't I do?" Potter asked. "I did everything I could!"

"Did you really?" Dudley's voice was low and menacing. "What about the Dementors?"

"I cast a Patronus! I did what I could to save you from them, Dudley! It's not like I controlled them, that was Voldemort! The corrupt Ministry! The—"

"And now your precious Ministry is no more," Dudley grinned at Potter. Even Rho thought the grin was ugly.

"Dudley," she whispered, trying to attract his attention. She didn't want Potter to know who she was. Didn't want him to recognize her.

* * *

 _October 2002_

 _Ministry of Defense Compound_

 _Portland Bill, UK_

* * *

Harry was becoming less and less groggy the more he argued with Dudley. But when the woman got Dudley's attention, Harry turned his focus to her. She looked familiar, but she was wearing a cowl or something, and he could see her face. Just her dark eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked her.

"Don't speak to her!" Dudley roared in a perfect imitation of his father.

Harry watched as the mystery woman eyed the way his magical core was being drained. Covetously, and perhaps a little frightened. More and more, he was sure he knew her.

"Why would a witch want to turn on her own kind?" he asked. He was grasping at straws, but he felt sure that the woman _was_ a witch.

"Because her own kind turned on her first," the woman snarled. She slammed a needle into Harry's IV port, and the world faded to black.

* * *

 _February 2003_

 _Yaxley Estate_

 _Suffolk, England_

* * *

"Seriously, Yaxley?" Hermione complained upon seeing his grandmother's house. It was massive, perhaps larger than Malfoy Manor, and of course, it was not only perfectly intact, but the library was packed to the brim, and overflowing.

"What?" Yaxley turned his handsome face her way, a look of confusion on it.

"It's a good thing you're pretty," Hermione muttered.

Yaxley led her through the massive gates and into the building itself. The building was all winding corridors and interconnected rooms, and it wasn't long until Hermione lost all sense of direction. She couldn't understand how people actually _lived_ like this.

The library looked like the one from the Disney movie that came out when she was a third year. She'd seen it over the summer her fifth year when it had come out on video and had been intensely jealous of the heroine's library. Or what would become her library when she and the beast finally married.

As she stepped toward the card catalog, she hoped the Yaxley library was better organized than some of the libraries she'd been in over the last few months.

It took a few hours, but finally, Yaxley had pulled all of the books that Hermione thought would be most promising. Yaxley had been extremely helpful, finding books that Hermione had pulled from the catalog, and even a few that hadn't been cataloged yet. Hermione sat down and began flicking through an uncatalogued one that discussed the prominent spells of the middle-ages. That's when the Muggle-Repelling Charm had debuted and been popularized. She was buried in the middle of the book, reading a fascinating treatise on ley lines when a pair of hands fell heavily onto her shoulders.

Hermione yelped and stood, whirling on her attacker to find that it was Yaxley. He stared down at her wand with his hands up in the air.

"Calm down, princess. Wasn't trying to scare you," Yaxley said. Hermione lowered her wand, still breathing heavily.

"Merlin, Yaxley," she muttered as she tucked her wand away entirely. When she looked back up, Yaxley was gazing at her with longing, and Hermione felt trepidation about what he was going to say next.

"You sure you aren't interested in…" Yaxley trailed off and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. He flicked his hands down his body as if indicating he was offering himself.

Hermione didn't laugh, but it was a near thing. Yaxley was like a puppy, cute, but not very bright. She shook her head. "I'm _really_ not."

Yaxley sighed, "Fine. You about ready to go?"

Hermione nodded, and the two of them began shrinking the books Hermione had decided would be the best to take back to camp.

* * *

 _February 2003_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

* * *

The Yaxley estate was a treasure trove. More so because apparently one of Yaxley's ancestors had been a very heavy advocate for the Statute of Secrecy and the Muggle-Repelling Charms that were created at that time, appeared to still be in use today. And it wasn't runes, unfortunately, that were the building blocks. Runes were hard enough, but they were at least something that Hermione had studied, something she understood.

Muggle-Repelling Charms were inlaid into ley lines. One ley line in particular, actually, powered every Muggle-Repelling Charm in Britain. The problem? Hermione had never studied ley lines. They didn't talk about them at Hogwarts, and everything she had read about them up until now, had mostly been conjecture. They were a very, very old branch of magic. A branch of magic that was barely studied these days. The last ley line expert had died over a hundred and fifty years ago.

"Merlin, fuck, Circe, Nimue, and Godric's tiny toes," Hermione swore as she dropped her head into her hands.

"Something wrong?" Gibbon asked. Hermione jumped from her seat. Gibbon had been ignoring her for days, and while Hermione felt terrible about it, she needed the help and Gibbon supposedly was the only one smart enough to keep up with her. Hermione wasn't sure about that. He'd been so reluctant to even be in the same tent as her. And, frankly, he still terrified her.

"Know anything about ley lines?" Hermione asked, defeat heavy in her voice. "Apparently the first Muggle-Repelling Charm was embedded into one particular ley line. And every subsequent charm built off that one. Problem is, I don't know which ley line, nothing seems to indicate that. And Hogwarts hasn't taught ley line magic for over three hundred years. The last ley line expert died a century and a half ago."

"Of course I know about ley lines," Gibbon replied. He smirked, somewhat nastily at her. "Pure-bloods are taught about ley lines before they are given wands."

"What?" Hermione was gobsmacked. Why had it never occurred to her that any of the pure-bloods she was sharing a tent with could tell her about ley lines? _Because Yaxley never mentioned it_. She didn't know if that was because Yaxley was kind of an idiot or if something more sinister was going on. She hoped that it was the first, but feared it was the latter.

"It's how we can do magic before having a wand," Gibbon said smugly.

Hermione glared at him. "Well, care to inform me?"

"I'm not sure. It might break some sort of pure-blood code…" Gibbon trailed off as if he were deep in thought.

Hermione stood from her spot at the table in the tent that the four of them still shared so abruptly she knocked the chair she was sitting on over backward. It clattered against the wooden floor of the tent as Hermione stalked toward Gibbon who was leaning against the tentpole, his arms crossed over his chest and sneered down at her.

"You listen here, you fucking overgrown hypocrite," Hermione poked him in the chest. She was so angry with him and his attitude toward her that her hair was sparking. "I've had it up to here," she flattened her hand above her head, "with your attitude with me. Don't you care about the wizarding world? I get it; you were a big, bad, Death Eater. But I thought the reason all you arseholes were Death Eaters, to begin with, was because you fucking cared about your world. You didn't want Muggle-borns encroaching. I fucking got that at least. Or were you one of those sick bastards who joined because he liked to torture people?"

It suddenly just occurred to her that maybe Gibbon was one of the Death Eaters who joined up because the organization subscribed to ideals of death and torture. She took a step back just as Gibbon unfolded himself and began stalking forward, backing Hermione into the table.

"And what if I am? What if all I want to do is see the world burn, little girl? What are you going to do about it?" Gibbon leaned close and placed both hands on the table behind her. One on either side of her. Caging her in.

"If that were the case, you wouldn't be here," Hermione said. She hoped she sounded confident, but was afraid she didn't.

"And why not? There is safety in numbers after all. Dolohov has kept the Muggles back well enough. Why wouldn't I decide to hide in a pack?" Fear was making her heart bounce in her chest like a rabbit running from a predator. And that was exactly how Hermione felt, like prey and Gibbon the monster tracking her. She wondered if he could smell her fear like any good predator?

"Is that why you haven't helped me at all?" Hermione whispered. "You'd rather see me dead then foul up the pure-bloodedness of Rowle?"

Gibbon scoffed and backed up. He crossed his arms over his chest again. "I haven't helped because you want to make me the villain, Granger." He turned his back to her and ran a hand through his Weasley-red hair. A pang of longing for her wizarding family shot through her. She hoped Harry and Ron were both alright.

"I don't understand," Hermione said. "I don't want you to be a villain; I want you to help me figure out why the Muggle-Repelling Charms failed and fix it so we can begin hiding from the Muggles again. I don't want another war. Especially not one with the Muggles who's superior technology _will_ obliterate us off the map!"

"I didn't know that Muggle-Repelling Charms were tied to ley lines," Gibbon said quietly. "I helped where I could, but even pure-bloods don't know everything about the history of the wizarding world."

"Fine, now that you do, do you think you can help me?" Hermione asked, her anger and fear leaking from her slowly.

"Do you trust me?" Gibbon responded. He turned back to face her, and his light green eyes held something like warmth in them for the first time.

"No." Hermione wasn't about to lie. She didn't trust Gibbon. He was too volatile. If she thought Rowle was volatile, Gibbon was worse. Way worse. Scary in a way that Rowle never could be for her.

Gibbon sighed. "You know, I never meant to scare you."

"You sure about that?" Hermione asked. "Because you do a damn good job of it."

Gibbon shook his head. "Wizards have second sight; you're aware of this yes?" At Hermione's nod, he went on. "It's not taught much these days, but if you meditate and relax, you can pull up your second sight. Using that, you can see ley lines."

Hermione sighed. She'd tried once, to call up her second sight, but she'd never been able to do it. It wasn't used for much, and she had just decided it was something she didn't understand, couldn't understand about the wizarding world. It looked like she was going to need a lot of help in order to figure out what happened to the Muggle-Repelling Charms.

"I haven't successfully used my second sight before," Hermione admitted. She was embarrassed about it and knew it was one more way Gibbon would see her as not a true witch. Just another thing, in a long line of them, for the Death Eater pure-bloods to castigate over her.

Gibbon sighed. "Well, it'll be impossible if I'm in the room."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, her shoulders squared. She hated being told she couldn't do something. She'd proven everyone wrong, even flying, she'd managed to conquer her fear there and here was another pure-blood telling her she couldn't.

"Oh, stop your fretting," Gibbon scolded. "It's because _you_ don't trust me. You'll never relax enough to pull up your second sight in my presence." Gibbon sighed. "I'll have to track down Rowle."

Then he left the tent without another word. Hermione had no idea if what just happened was a peace treaty between them or just a pause in the war.

* * *

 _February 2003_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

* * *

A few days later, Dolohov gave Rowle and Hermione the day off. "I'm told you have something you need to do to figure out the Muggle-Repelling charms?" Dolohov said as he was passing out assignments.

Hermione was relieved, she'd been trying on her own, but there was obviously something she wasn't getting. Rowle, being a pure-blood, of course, knew all about second sight and ley lines. She just hoped they could both concentrate long enough for him actually to impart knowledge. Rowle was disconcertingly single-minded when it came to being alone with Hermione. They still hadn't managed to get a tent to themselves, although the animosity between Hermione and Gibbon had decreased somewhat.

Dolohov was worried that giving the two a separate tent, would spark rumors in the camp that they could ill afford. The lack of witches was starting to grate on the wizards in the camp, and Dolohov was doing everything he could to keep the tensions at a gentle simmer and not boiling over. The last thing they needed was in-fighting. Hermione shuddered at the thought of being outed. She'd run before she allowed that to happen.

She and Rowle returned to their tent, and Rowle began placing privacy charms along the walls.

"Is all that necessary?" Hermione asked, removing the malachite necklace.

"Yes," Rowle said. "You need to be completely relaxed in order for this to work. You trust me right?"

Hermione nodded. She did trust Rowle; she shouldn't, logically, she knew that. But over the last several months, she had come to trust him implicitly. She probably trusted him more than she had ever trusted anyone and that thought scared her. Had she fallen in love with Rowle? She shook her head; she couldn't have. She wouldn't let herself believe it. Not now.

Once the tent was securely warded, Rowle pulled her onto their bed. Sitting against the headboard, Rowle settled Hermione between his legs.

"Close your eyes," he told her as he ran his large hands over her shoulders, massaging the tense muscles there. Hermione knew she needed to relax, so she followed his soft instructions as he massaged her skin.

Hermione stiffened when he reached a hand under her trousers.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "We're supposed to be—"

"I thought you said you trusted me, little witch," Rowle said. She could hear the hurt in his voice and immediately felt bad.

"I do, of course, I do. But I just want to get this done. No fooling around."

"Ah, see, that's the problem. You have to be _relaxed_ in order to pull up your second sight for the first time. Especially given how old you are. Most pure-bloods are taught as children when it's _much_ easier to do. As an adult, you'll need to be completely relaxed. So just let me work my magic," he wiggled his fingers against her rapidly dampening knickers, "and _relax_."

Hermione shuddered as he whispered a spell and her knickers Vanished. Another spell and so did the rest of her clothes. Rowle behind her was still fully clothed, though she could feel his rock hard cock at the small of her back.

"How am I supposed to relax with that thing poking me?" she asked as she arched her back, rubbing against him.

Rowle chuckled lowly and tweaked her one of her nipples. "This is about you, little witch. I can be patient."

"Never have before," Hermione muttered.

"Hush," Rowle said as he spread her legs further apart. Hermione helped him by hooking each one of her legs over his own, opening herself entirely to him. She was a little embarrassed to be so on display before him, but Rowle must have liked what he'd seen as he gave a small thrust of his hips, pushing his hard cock more firmly against her.

Hermione closed her eyes as Rowle began teasing her outer lips with light touches. He was so damned good at this that it wasn't long before Hermione was begging him for more.

"Fuck, please Rowle," Hermione moaned, tossing her head against his shoulder. He was just at the right angle that she could kiss the underside of his jaw. She felt his jaw clench as he slowly, oh, so slowly, slipped one finger inside her, brushing her clit with his thumb and rubbing her g-spot at the same time. Hermione saw stars and bucked her hips at the stimulus.

"You know," Rowle said lightly, although she could hear the pant in his voice. "Hearing my last name in bed isn't really the turn on you think it is."

Hermione laughed. It turned into a moan when Rowle dragged his finger out and pushed it back in again. "What should I call you then?"

"Thorfinn, or Thor. It's what my friends call me," Rowle said. "And I'd like to think that we're at least that, Hermione. Friends."

The sound of her name on his lips made her keen. She could feel the arousal drip out of her, and the sounds his finger made as it slipped in and out of her were positively indecent.

"How about Finn?" Hermione suggested after a long moment.

"Mmm, I could get behind that," Rowle agreed. Suddenly, he plunged two fingers inside her and Hermione's back arched almost painfully.

"Finn!" she shouted as she came. Her cunt gripped his fingers so tightly; she was sure he couldn't move them if he tried. Rowle gave her no rest though. She was sensitive, and still, he moved his fingers in a brutal rhythm, almost pounding them into her. Her sensitivity turned into a second orgasm within moments. Rowle held her to him firmly with his left arm around her chest, just under her breasts as his right hand continued its onslaught of her pussy.

"I-I can't," she begged when Rowle's thumb began circling her clit.

"Mmm, I think you can," Rowle said and bit down on the tendons of her neck the same moment he pressed her clit and slid a third finger inside her. Hermione orgasmed so hard, for so long, she almost blacked out.

When she'd finally caught her breath, Rowle whispered, "Now."

Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated on an imaginary eye right in the middle of her forehead. She'd read as much as she could on the second sight in preparation and Rowle had told her what to look for. The moment she found it, it clicked. The tent appeared in front of her awash in a dim, blue light. A sheen of blue covered everything. She looked over her shoulder at Rowle and found he was a kaleidoscope of colors.

She reached a hand out and touched the solid, warm skin of Rowle's chest. "What is it?"

"Magic," Rowle said. She couldn't quite see his face through the swirl of colors, but she imagined he was grinning. His colors were comprised of almost every color under the rainbow, although a dark, hunter green was most prominent.

"Every witch and wizard looks like this," Rowle said. He held up her hand for her to see. Her colors were different than his. There was a predominant ruby red tone that swirled around the other colors.

"It's beautiful," Hermione breathed.

"It is," Rowle agreed. "Now, turn around and look at the back wall of the tent, what do you see?"

Hermione settled once more between Rowle's legs and followed where his finger was pointing. There was a long, thin line of deep aubergine that stretched out in front of them as far as she could see.

"Is that a ley line?" Hermione asked.

Rowle nodded. "See, even when we don't mean too, wizards congregate near the ley lines. They are made up of magic so similar to our own, that they call to us."

"How do we find out which one the Muggle-Repelling Charms were tied to?" Hermione asked.

"If we can't find it in a book, we'll have to look for a damaged ley line. Were they tied to just one? Or multiple?"

"Everything I've read indicates just one," Hermione said. "A big one that runs the length of Britain." She couldn't tear her eyes from the ley line. It was beautiful. It ran directly under the tent, right under their bed and she reached a hand out as if to touch it.

"Here." Rowle placed his hand over hers and then seemed to call the ley line forth. As the magic ran through her hands, every hair on Hermione's body stood on end. There was more power in this one spot in the ley line than in both her and Rowle's bodies combined. It was heady.

"Woah," Hermione said as the cool feeling of the magic slipped through her fingers. She watched as the dark purple trailed over her ruby red and Rowle's hunter green. It was awe-inspiring.

Suddenly, the whole image disappeared, and Hermione was surrounded by the tent again. A headache bloomed from the spot in her forehead where she had imagined her third eye. She dropped her head to her hands and moaned.

"Yeah, unfortunate side-effect," Rowle muttered, rubbing his own forehead.

"You aren't going to have to help me relax each time, are you?" Hermione asked with a small laugh.

"Here's hoping," Rowle joked. "But no, probably not. It'll take some practice, but you should be able to call forth your second sight on your own now."

"Pity," Hermione grinned at him. "I think you might need a little help, yeah?"

Rowle returned her grin and pulled her in for a kiss. "I'd like that."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** **If you liked this chapter (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! You can find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or Facebook at Shan Crochetaway. My only beta is Grammarly; all other mistakes are mine.**

* * *

 _March 2003_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

* * *

Over the last few weeks, Hermione had gotten much better at pulling up her second sight and searching for ley lines. It was hard work and often left her exhausted after just a few hours of it. There were several ley lines that converged around the tent, but none of them appeared to be damaged in the way that she knew the ley line holding the Muggle-Repelling Charms would have to be.

It was almost three weeks before she finally went to Dolohov to ask about searching other hotspots of wizarding activity within Britain.

"Not by yourself," Dolohov said gruffly. The five of them, Dolohov, Rowle, Gibbon, Yaxley, and Hermione met almost every other day to discuss goings on in the camp and Hermione's progress with the Muggle-Repelling Charms.

"I wasn't suggesting that," Hermione said. "But I need to find the ley line they were tied to. None of the books we've found mention which line. It's possible we could repair the line itself, which would cut my job in half."

Dolohov frowned as he paced his tent and Hermione sighed. She knew he was going to tell her no, and make this harder on her than it needed to be. She understood the position he was in as the leader of this camp, but she hoped he would see that nothing would change, and in fact, it would all probably get worse if they didn't figure out a way to start shielding themselves from the Muggles.

"I just—"

"You need to let her try," Gibbon said, speaking up for Hermione. Hermione stared at him almost gobsmacked. They hadn't had quite the animosity between them anymore, but they certainly weren't friends.

"Who should I send with her? I can ill afford to send Thor," Dolohov said just as Rowle had been about to speak up.

"Why not?" Rowle asked petulantly. Hermione placed her hand on his forearm. Trying to offer some comfort. She was by far most comfortable with Rowle but knew that Rowle was needed at camp. He and Yaxley were what kept most of the wizards in line.

"You know why," Dolohov said darkly. "Don't be a child."

"Send me," Gibbon offered.

"Absolutely not," Rowle growled. He stood quickly and his chair tipped over, clattering across the floor.

"Rowle," Dolohov warned.

"No, she goes with me or she doesn't go at all," Rowle said. "That's final. I can't trust her with Connor."

"Can't trust her or Connor?" Dolohov asked shrewdly.

"Oh, I trust her," Rowle said. "I don't trust Connor."

Gibbon looked irritated and Hermione sighed. "I'm right here, you know," she said, trying to remind them that not only was she there, but she was more than capable of taking care of herself.

"And you're a precious resource, as well you know," Rowle growled, not taking his eyes off of Dolohov.

Hermione was frustrated with the he-man routine and stood. "I don't care who the fuck goes with me. Figure it out. I plan to leave at dawn."

"Oh, no, you don't," Rowle said and Hermione danced out of his way as he tried to grab her arm. She slipped the malachite necklace over her head, donning her disguise as a fifteen-year-old boy named Herman.

"I've got washing to do," Hermione said, in her deep voice that still half-surprised her every time she heard it.

She left the tent and found Flint and Nott gathering the wash. She joined them and they made quick work of heading to the river.

* * *

The following morning found Dolohov visiting their tent for once. Hermione packed everything she thought she needed in her bag and donned the malachite necklace.

"Listen to reason, Thor," Dolohov pleaded.

"Talen's got it," Rowle said. "He can handle the camp. It's been quiet the last few weeks. Sooner we get this done, sooner we'll be back."

Dolohov frowned at them and Hermione decided to ignore everyone. Gibbon was glaring at them all, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the tent pole.

"I'm ready," Hermione said, frowning at the way her voice sounded when she wore the necklace.

"Merlin, I hate that," Rowle muttered.

Hermione nodded, she hated it too. At first, it had been strange, but not so terrible, now, she hated it more than anything.

"If I can figure this out," Hermione said. She took the necklace back off, it was too weird to say that much while wearing it. "If I can figure this out, we can probably make more of an effort in finding wizards. If I'm able to repair the broken ley line, then the old charms will be reinvoked. Diagon Alley, the Ministry, Mungo's, they'll all be back behind the charms. It'll draw people out, hopefully."

"Right, and if you fail?" Gibbon asked.

"Connor," Rowle warned.

"If I fail, you can be the first to tell me you told me so," Hermione said, meeting Gibbon's eye. "And then I'll leave. Heaven forbid, I taint anyone else in this Merlin-forsaken camp."

"Hermione," Rowle sounded distressed.

"I'm not going to stay where I'm not wanted, Finn," Hermione said. "You're free to come with me if that happens."

"We'll discuss that _if_ it happens," Dolohov said firmly, cutting off whatever Gibbon was going to say next.

"Fine, let's go then," Hermione said, slipping the malachite necklace back over her head. Rowle and Dolohov followed her out of the tent, leaving Gibbon and Yaxley behind.

"Where to first?" Dolohov asked as they traveled out of the camp, far enough away that hopefully, most wizards in the camp wouldn't notice that Rowle and Hermione were slipping away.

"Outskirts of London," Hermione said. "So much of wizarding Britain was based in London that I think the ley line had to be near there."

"And how are you getting there?" Dolohov asked. "You can't Apparate, you might—"

"Broom," Rowle interrupted.

Hermione shuddered, she hated brooms. But Rowle had assured her they could ride together. And it was safer than Apparition.

"Fine. I want regular check-ins," Dolohov said.

"Would Patronus do?" Hermione asked.

"What?"

"For check-ins? Can I send you my Patronus? I don't much like flying."

"We're going to talk about what else you've been holding out on, Granger, but yes, a Patronus will be fine," Dolohov said.

"Let's go," Rowle said. He mounted the broom and scooted back, to allow Hermione to get on in front of him. She did so, feeling nervous, but Rowle's arms around her made her feel a little better.

"Good luck," Dolohov said when Rowle kicked off from the ground and they rose slowly in the air. Hermione gripped the broom in front of her until Rowle pried her fingers from it.

"Hold onto my arms, not the broom. Broom won't know who's in control," Rowle breathed into her ear. "And take off that damned necklace."

Hermione snorted a laugh, but pulled the necklace off and shoved it into her pocket, before wrapping her arms around Rowle's large forearms. She felt quite safe in his embrace, safer than she had thought she would feel.

"Alright, we'll take it slow, to begin with. Let me know when you're feeling comfortable enough to speed up," Rowle murmured. Hermione took a deep breath and nodded. She kept her eyes closed as they flew toward London. Slowly, she began relaxing into Rowle's arms and opened her eyes. It was rather beautiful up here as they sped over the hills and fields.

"There," Rowle pointed down toward a small dale. There wasn't a building in at least a few miles in any direction.

"Are you sure it'll be safe?" Hermione asked.

"We'll check it out and if it's not, we'll leave in a hurry," Rowle assured her. Hermione nodded and closed her eyes as Rowle began a slow descent. London was off in the distance, they were still well beyond the suburbs, but not so far away that any ley lines passing through the area wouldn't be found. Hermione just hoped that she could _fix_ whatever was wrong with the ley lines. She feared that if she couldn't fix it, it would be months of research into ley lines that criss crossed Britain to pick one that she could tie the new Muggle-Repelling Charms to.

The dale was definitely empty and Hermione and Rowle made quick work of setting up a few wards to alert them if anyone came near.

"Should I get out the tent?" Rowle asked.

Hermione shook her head. "It's too open and I'm hoping to get to a few sights today."

"Will you be able to handle that?" Rowle asked.

"I'll have to. Sooner we get this done, sooner everything goes back to the way it was."

"I'm not sure that's ever going to be possible," Rowle muttered.

Hermione ignored him and got to work. It was hard, but eventually, she was able to pull up the second sight. The dim blue light signifying the second sight flooded her vision and she pressed her hands to the ground, looking for ley lines. There were a few, but they were far away and they all looked healthy. She shook her head, dropping the second sight and she and Rowle took down the wards and clambered back on the broom.

"You sure you're alright to fly?" Rowle asked.

"Just don't let me fall. I'll be fine," Hermione mumbled, with her eyes closed. She felt Rowle nod and they took off into the sky. Her head pounded and she sucked in deep breaths of the cold air to keep the nausea at bay.

It went like that four more times before Rowle insisted they find a place to stop for the night.

"There," Rowle said as he pointed out a small wood in the distance. Hermione opened her eyes just far enough to see where he was pointing and nodded. Her head was throbbing still, but she knew she had to suck up the pain. Finding the broken ley line was imperative and Hermione would work until she collapsed if she had to.

The wood appeared empty, but she and Rowle circled the whole thing from the broom, casting _Homenum Revelio_ every few feet or so. When they were sure that nobody was inside the wood waiting to ambush them, Rowle landed and they entered the space swiftly. They began casting more wards, to alert them of anyone approaching, to discourage anyone from staying in the area, they weren't Muggle-Repelling Charms, just distraction charms that could be fought through if one was determined enough. They also cast several layers of warning wards. It was the best they could do.

Rowle dug through the bag he had slung across his back and pulled out a tent. Hermione took a breath and tried to help him set it up, but Rowle waved her off. He pointed to a fallen log and Hermione nodded and practically collapsed on top of it as Rowle figured out the tent.

"Alright, let's get started," Hermione said the moment the tent was up.

"Woah, maybe we should wait until morning. You're clearly feeling like hippogriff dung," Rowle protested.

"If it's not here, we'll have more sights to see tomorrow," Hermione explained slowly. Her voice was barely a whisper in an attempt to keep the throbbing in her head down to a minimum. "I'd rather start the day fresh."

"Fine, but you're taking a headache relief potion and we're getting into bed before you start."

Hermione huffed but didn't have the energy to protest. Rowle ushered her into the tent and rummaged through his bag, finally pulling out the light-blue potion. Hermione downed it in one gulp, but it barely made a dent in her headache.

"Strip," Rowle said as he flicked his wand, getting clean sheets on the bed. Hermione fought to roll her eyes at him again, but she was exhausted, and Rowle would help her relax into the state necessary to pull up her second sight.

Soon, she and Rowle were both naked and in bed. Rowle on his back and Hermione sprawled across his chest. She listened to his strong heartbeat and closed her eyes as Rowle ran his massive hands up and down her neck. He twisted her hair out of the way and massaged the base of her neck. Hermione was practically purring in his arms, her headache there, but almost forgotten under Rowle's ministrations.

Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths and began centering herself. This was going to hurt way worse than any other time she'd done this today. She'd never managed to bring up her second sight more than four times in a day and she'd already done it five times that day. She put the future pain out of her mind and began feeling her body connected to the earth beneath the floor of the tent. Then she concentrated on the third-eye she could feel at the center of her forehead and opened it. The dim blue light covered everything. In her immediate vicinity was Rowle, she could see the bright colors of his magic swirling in his chest, the dark, hunter green the most present. She swept her hand over his chest, watching as his magic reacted to her presence.

Taking another deep breath, she moved her head, just enough to see beyond Rowle. There were three ley lines in the immediate vicinity. A dark vermillion one, way off to the left. Chartreuse ran almost directly under her feet and Hermione reached out a hand, dipping it through the ley line. It hummed with magic and felt good. She smiled as she spotted a dark navy ley line off to the side. The ley lines near here all looked healthy. She knew she needed to drop the second sight soon, but delayed, running her hands through the bright green one that ran beneath the bed of the tent once more.

"Merlin, witch," Rowle grunted as Hermione leaned on her elbow on his chest to reach a hand over the edge of the bed.

"There's a lovely little ley line down here," Hermione murmured, playing her hand through the magic.

"Yeah, I can feel it," Rowle muttered and Hermione realized that just by virtue of touching Rowle, he could feel the magic that was running through her hands.

"You need to drop the sight," Rowle reminded her. "You're already going to feel like shit, drop it."

Hermione nodded and closed the imaginary eye in her forehead. She regretted everything she'd done that day, immediately. A wave of pain came over her so hard and so fast she almost blacked out from it.

"Oh, fuck," she whispered, grabbing both hands to the sides of her head. It felt as though her head were going to split open.

"Yeah," Rowle grunted. He Summoned another headache relief potion and just the sound of it whistling through the air and then slapping his palm was enough to set her teeth on edge. She felt miserable. "Here." Rowle held the vial up to her lips and helped her get most of it down her throat. There must have been some dreamless sleep mixed into the potion because Hermione's vision went black and she didn't wake until morning.

* * *

 _March 2003_

 _Someplace Outside of London_

 _England, UK_

* * *

Three days later, Hermione and Rowle finally encountered the mangled ley line. It was their second stop of the day, they were near an abandoned farmstead. The buildings made Hermione nervous, but Rowle assured her there wasn't anybody nearby. The moment she'd settled into the old dirt floor of the barn, she could feel something _wrong_ in the air. She hissed a breath and brought up her second sight faster than she ever had before. The blue light shimmered over everything and there it was. An ugly, jagged, rust-red line that ran through the ground at her feet. It went as far as she could see in either direction and was as large as an eight-lane highway. No wonder they had used it to anchor the Muggle-Repelling Charms.

"Found it," Hermione hissed. She dipped her hand into the line and whipped it back out when it stung her. "Fucking hurts."

"Are you sure this is it?" Rowle asked.

"Pull up the second sight and see for yourself," Hermione snapped. She knew she was inexperienced with this whole ley line business, but honestly. She'd seen enough of them in the last few days to know that this was the one they were looking for.

"Not without more protections in place. Drop your sight so we can set up a proper camp."

Hermione took a deep breath and closed her inner eye slowly. The pounding in her head increased and Rowle slipped a headache relief potion in her hand. She had no idea how he always knew, but he did. She chugged it as they went about setting up a proper camp around the barn. They decided to just set up the tent in the barn, at least they'd have a bed that way.

"Alright, we'll both go down and see if we can figure out what exactly is wrong with it," Hermione stated once they were settled on the floor in the tent.

"No, you need to eat," Rowle insisted. He pulled out a few packaged protein bars and Hermione wrinkled her nose. They'd been living off of them for a few days now and the thought of choking another one down made her want to vomit.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"You've pulled up your sight twice already. And we're about to be down long enough that both of us will be incapacitated for a while after. I'm not taking no for an answer," Rowle told her.

Hermione glared at him. She hated when he got bossy with her.

"Fine," she snapped and snatched a bar out of his hand, ripping the plastic open and taking a large bite.

Twenty minutes later, they were both nestled into the bed in the tent. Hermione knew it was going to be difficult to stay under as long as they would need to, and her head was already pounding, but they needed to see if they could fix the line. The sooner they did that the better.

"Relax," Rowle muttered, stroking her back. Hermione slowly eased all of the tension from her body.

"Now," she murmured and she opened her third eye, seeing the magic flowing through Rowle's body first. She placed her hand on his chest, loving the way their magic looked together.

"Holy…" Rowle broke off and Hermione glanced to see what he was looking at. The burnt red line was jagged and jangled the nerves. "It looks... _wrong_. Like it's sick." His voice was full of horror and Hermione found herself nodding.

"I know," she whispered. "I tried touching it earlier and it shocked me."

"Well, we aren't going to fix it by _not_ touching it," Rowle said grimly. Hermione nodded again, and together they reached out with their hands. Putting their hand into this ley line felt akin to putting it into a bowl full of thumbtacks. It was sharp and pricked at their skin.

"There's something disrupting the flow," Rowle murmured.

"I can feel it too. Did someone shove something into the ley line?"

"I've never heard of that, but I guess it would be possible," Rowle hummed.

"But what? I mean, it would have to be something imbued with its own magic right? Some sort of magical artefact?"

"Maybe a rune stone?" Rowle suggested.

"Oh, that's brilliant," Hermione said. "So simple, and yet…" she concentrated trying to figure out where the disruption was coming from. "I think it's west of here."

"I agree," Rowle said. "We won't be able to pull out whatever it is from here."

"We'll go west in the morning then. We can travel along the line, stopping every few miles or so to see if we can pinpoint the location."

"I think it'll be easier the closer we are to it. We should go up."

Hermione winced as she closed her third eye and the headache came roaring back.

"Oh, Merlin," she breathed through her nose and out her mouth as the nausea threatened to overwhelm her.

"Here," Rowle pressed a headache relief potion into her hand again and she hoped it was one of the doctored ones that would immediately put her to sleep.

* * *

 _March 2003_

 _Malfoy Manor_

 _Wiltshire, England, UK_

* * *

"Of, fucking, course," Hermione muttered as they flew over what she immediately recognized was Malfoy Manor. They had spent the morning searching along the ley line for where the disruption was and their last stop had indicated it was about five miles from where they were. Five miles proved to be exactly where Malfoy Manor was located.

"Think he's still in there?" Rowle asked.

"Unlikely. It's not protected by a Fidelus, obviously, and it sits so close to a Muggle road," Hermione shook her head. "He's probably dead, the whole Manor is probably empty."

"He was on house arrest, right?" Rowle asked. "So wherever he did it from, it wasn't outside."

"Cellar," Hermione grimaced. She'd never seen it, but there were plenty of other places she'd seen in Malfoy Manor that she had no desire to go back to again.

"That makes sense," Rowle murmured and slowly drifted the broom downward so they were inside the gates and staring up at the front porch.

Immediately, the sight of the door of the Manor made Hermione's pulse race. Her breathing increased rapidly and Rowle gave her a strange look. Her hands started shaking and she looked down at her feet in order to not see that fucking door again.

"I-I…" she couldn't go on. She sat abruptly on the step and Rowle dropped with her.

"What's wrong?" he asked as she shivered and shook. She wrapped her arms around herself and dropped her head between her knees.

"I can't," she muttered over and over again.

"Hermione, you're scaring me," Rowle said. His voice was weirdly high-pitched and Hermione wanted to ensure him that she was alright, that it was just a panic attack and she'd make it through, but she couldn't make her tongue move, except to say, "I can't," over and over again.

Rowle pulled her close, rubbing his hands up and down her back. She found herself buried in his embrace and shuddered once more. The smell of him calmed her in more ways than she realized as she felt the panic finally release control of her body. She clung to him them, sobbing as Rowle held her tightly.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she said into his chest. Either Rowle didn't hear her or he didn't acknowledge her. He just held her and Hermione found that it was exactly what she needed right then. He didn't try to reassure her. He didn't shush her. He just held her. As if holding her was the only thing anchoring him to earth and Hermione knew that being held by him really _was_ the only thing anchoring her in that moment.

She finally was able to take a few deep breaths and pulled back, just enough to look up at him. His eyes were full of concern, but he didn't say anything.

"I…"

"When you're ready," Rowle shrugged.

Hermione nodded. "Let's go inside."

"You sure?"

"You know the way to the cellar?" Hermione asked, biting her lip.

Rowle nodded tightly.

"Then yes. I'll keep my eyes closed, you get us to the cellar."

"Alright," Rowle took a deep breath and Hermione closed her eyes, clutching at the back of his robes as he gingerly began moving through the Manor. He narrated their journey. Letting her know when he'd be turning and finally, when they'd be descending the stairs to the cellar.

"I chose the wine cellar, which is separate from the dungeons," he murmured as they reached the bottom of the steps. The smell of dirt hit Hermione and she was relieved that they weren't in the dungeons. Regardless of not having spent any time in them, she knew people had, and that was enough to freak her out. She didn't want to know how Rowle knew his way around Malfoy Manor. She knew the basics, it had been the Death Eater stronghold during the war.

"Alright," she nodded and opened her eyes. The vaulted ceiling was low and there was rack after rack of wine as far as she could see. The floor was dirt and in front of them was a circle drawn in the dirt.

"This is where he did it," she breathed.

Rowle nodded. "Seems likely."

"What's the circle for?" she asked. She knew a little about circles, but not a lot.

"Supposedly it's a conjuring circle, for protection against whatever you are conjuring. I have no idea why he would have used it to fuck with the ley line. But maybe he conjured something to do it for him?"

"But what?" Hermione asked.

"You are incorrect. He cast the circle to put up a silencing charm," a disembodied voice from behind them stated.

Hermione screamed and whirled around, pointing her wand at whoever was behind them.

"Don't fear, witch. I can't hurt you," the voice said.

Rowle cast a _Lumos_ and drew closer to what appeared to be a portrait.

"Arsenius Malfoy," the portrait said and did a complicated looking flourished bow. Hermione raised her eyebrow at him, but let Rowle take the lead on talking to the portrait.

"Thorfinn Rowle," Rowle bobbed his head. He didn't introduce Hermione and she knew why he didn't, but it didn't stop it from stinging. She turned her back on their conversation as she inspected the circle.

"What _did_ he do?" Rowle asked Arsenius.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure, but Armand thinks he shoved a rune stone into a ley line. Can't pull up our second sight as portraits, you understand."

Hermione nodded and tuned out their conversation. If he shoved a rune stone into the ley line, hopefully they would be able to pull it out. She swiped her boot at the circle drawn in the dirt. They didn't need it and it creeped her out to think about stepping into the same circle that Lucius Malfoy used to fuck the entire wizarding world over with.

Rowle joined her shortly and they knelt facing each other.

"Ready?" Hermione asked. Rowle nodded and she took a deep breath to focus before bringing up her second sight. Rowle and his magic looked gorgeous as always. Hermione held up her hand and Rowle matched it. She loved the way their clasped fingers looked together in the psychedelic swirl of magic.

Glancing down, she could see the ley line running between them and there right in the center was a carved rune stone. Hermione grit her teeth and pushed her hand into the jangly magic of the ley line to turn the rune stone over. And found two more behind it. Malfoy had shoved three rune stones into the ley line.

"Merlin," Rowle breathed. "Can you read them?"

Hermione shook her head and tried pulling one of the stones out of the ley line, but it was stuck. She could move it around within the magic of the ley line, but pulling it free wasn't working. She flipped the stone over and gasped.

"Hagalaz," she said.

"For wrath of nature," Rowle grimaced. "What are the others?"

Hermione turned the other two rune stones over. "Nauthiz and Thurisaz."

"Delay and restriction and destruction?"

"I didn't know you took Ancient Runes," Hermione said, peering up at Rowle.

"Not the time, little witch," Rowle reminded her. "Can you pull them out?"

Hermione shook her head. "They seem to be stuck pretty fast. I tried to pull Hagalaz and it didn't budge."

"Maybe they're bundled in some way?" Rowle suggested. "Trying pulling them all out together."

Hermione took a deep breath and pulled slowly at first, hoping that a slow approach would make the ley line release the stones, but no luck. The moment the stones got within an inch of the edge of the ley line they snapped back toward the middle.

"You try," Hermione said, releasing the stones. Rowle winced as he placed his hands into the ley line and Hermione brushed her finger across one of them in sympathy. He gathered up the rune stones and gave an almighty pull, but they didn't budge.

"No, go," Rowle frowned. "Sticking charm you think?"

Hermione shook her head. "How would he stick them to pure magic? Seems more likely that having been stuck in the ley line for months that the ley line has grown over them."

"Even if they make the ley line sick like they are?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know."

"Time to go up," Rowle said. "Let's get out of here then we can send a Patronus to Antonin."

Hermione grimaced as she dropped the second sight. She immediately began dry heaving and the moment she was done, Rowle had his arms around her and a headache relief potion in her hand.

"Don't you also feel like shit?" Hermione grumbled after downing the potion.

Rowle shrugged. "Azkaban isn't a walk in the park. I'm used to feeling like shit and still having to function."

Hermione groaned and rolled her eyes as Rowle led her up the stairs and into Malfoy Manor proper.

"Close your eyes, little witch," Rowle reminded her and Hermione did, placing her forehead against his back. She shuffled forward, but when she tripped over his feet, he sighed and swung her up in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck to hold on and he placed a kiss on her forehead. "Don't get used to this," he muttered.

Hermione laughed weakly.

* * *

 _March 2003_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

* * *

"Dolohov," Granger's voice announced from a tiny, silvery otter that had gamboled up to Antonin in his tent. "We found the ley line, but it's too badly damaged. I have a contender for a replacement. Runs through the camp and seems to run through London too. I'll work on it on our way home."

The otter disappeared as Granger's voice faded.

"That's a neat trick," Connor scowled. Antonin suppressed a sigh and ignored him.

"They'll be home soon, good," Antonin said. "In the meantime, we need to figure out what we're going to do with all of these Muggle scouts that seem to be gunning for us."

"Kill them, just like we've always done," Connor said.

"We can, however, don't you suspect that gives away our position? They'll never leave us alone if they know we're in here."

"Well, when they never return, they don't know what happens," Talen grinned.

Antonin threw up his hands. Death Eaters were entirely too hellbent on murder and what he needed was strategists. He couldn't wait until Granger was back.

* * *

 _March 2003_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

* * *

A few days later, Granger and Thor returned. They looked sickeningly sweet at each other and Dolohov had to suppress more sighing. Couldn't they see what they were doing to Gibbon? It was hard enough to keep Gibbon from murdering one or the both of them.

"I've done it," Granger said when she saw him.

"Done what?"

"Anchored a new ley line for Muggle-Repelling Charms. It's not perfect, but I'll keep working on it. It usually works after the third or fourth iteration."

"That's… less than ideal," Connor sneered.

"I'm aware, Gibbon," Granger said coldly. "However, at least I have _something_ working." Clearly implying that Connor hadn't done anything.

Antonin stepped forward before another fight could ensue. "Good. Connor, Talen, come with me, I think I've figured out what we can use to test the variations that Granger comes up with."

Connor glared at Granger once more before following Antonin out of the tent.

"By the way, I've set up a new tent for you two next door," Antonin addressed Thor and Granger. "Stop antagonizing Gibbon, would you?"

He led Connor and Talen to the last place they had run into a Muggle patrol. He had an idea to test Granger's Muggle-Repelling Charm. But to test it, he needed a Muggle. It took them almost two hours of walking to get far enough from the encampment. The last thing Antonin wanted was to lure Muggles anywhere near where the camp was located.

"What are we doing out here?" Talen asked sullenly. Talen was usually not the sullen one of the bunch.

"What has your knickers in a twist?" Antonin snapped. Connor smirked and Antonin glared at him as well. He flicked his wand and the tent he'd been carrying set itself up. Talen slumped onto a log, kicking at the underbrush as he did. Antonin really didn't have the patience to deal with his attitude today. When Talen didn't answer, Antonin continued, "We're attempting to lure some Muggles today," Antonin said pointedly. "Granger indicates that the charm may not work the first time, so be ready with a Stunner if needed."

"How are you going to get a Muggle?" Connor asked crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against a tree.

"Well, they have those magic detecting things, so I figure we start casting the biggest, most magic-expending charms we can, and we'll get one soon enough," Antonin said.

"And then still have energy to cast the Muggle-Repelling Charm and Stun the Muggle if necessary? What if there are a lot of them?" Connor asked.

Antonin felt like an idiot, he was usually better than this. "What do you suggest, Connor? Because clearly, you have something in mind."

"Let's just go into town and kidnap one," Connor shrugged.

Antonin pursed his lips, he could just imagine what Granger would have to say about that if she knew. But, Connor wasn't wrong, it would at least be faster and less energy consuming.

"Not sure that's a good idea," Talen said.

"Why not?" Connor asked.

"Just going to take an innocent Muggle?"

"Innocent? You think they are bloody innocent? Where the fuck have you been?" Connor exploded. "In case you have missed it, the Muggles are _hunting_ wizards down because we have magic and they don't like it. They would kill _you_ in a heartbeat, Talen."

"Still, whatever Muggle we kidnap wouldn't necessarily be one who attacked us. I like Antonin's idea of luring one to us. Let's lure one of those military types. I'd have no problem torturing and killing one of them."

"You're all going bleeding soft," Connor hissed. He stalked away from camp.

"Connor!" Antonin shouted after him. "Gibbon! Get back here!" Connor kept going and Antonin cursed under his breath. Hopefully, Connor was just going to cool off and would be back. He needed wizards like Connor and hated that Connor was right. Apparently, Dolohov had gone soft."

"I'll cast a few _Bombardas,_ " Talen said. "That should be enough power to lure someone in.

"Right," Antonin nodded. Talen began blowing up trees in the clearing while Antonin cast the new version of the Muggle-Repelling Charm on the tent.

It didn't take long for a pair of Muggle scouts to come creeping through the woods. Antonin and Talen had set out several wards to alert them of the presence of someone else.

"How are we going to figure out if they see the tent?" Talen whispered once the first ward dinged in their ears.

"I'm hoping once we catch sight of them, one of us ducks into the tent and the other observes."

"Who's the sitting duck in the tent?" Talen asked. "Oh, Antonin, seriously? Why does it always have to be me?" he pouted once he'd asked the question.

Antonin clapped him on the shoulder quietly. "Sorry, mate. I'll make sure they don't fire any of those Muggle weapons into the tent. You'll be safe as houses."

Talen scowled at him and moved from their hiding spot under a Disillusionment charm and toward the front flap of the tent. The second and third wards dinged rapidly together and Antonin waited, soon two men dressed in Muggle military garb came into sight. They were totally silent and communicating by hand signals only. Talen had his back to them, but one of the Muggles accidentally stepped on a branch that cracked rather loudly.

Talen whipped around, spotted the Muggles and dove into the tent. The Muggles then circled the tent and raised their 'ray-gun' at the tent. Antonin would have no word for that device had Granger not told him what it looked like to her. They still could only guess about what exactly it did.

"We know you're in there," one of them stated. "Come out with your hands up and your wand in them and we won't hurt you."

" _Der'mo_ ," Antonin swore and he stunned both Muggles. "You can come out Talen, they're down."

Talen stepped out of the tent with a mighty scowl on his face. "Could have warned me what direction they were in," he grumbled. "Hurt my shoulder diving into the tent."

"Well, Granger was right, the first iteration of the spell didn't work. They could see the tent alright. Let's levitate them outside of the perimeter of the wards and try again."

"Think they'll still creep this way once you wake them up?" Talen asked pointing his wand at one of the Muggles.

Antonin shrugged. "Worth a shot at least." He put the Muggle-Repelling Charm on the tent again, this time using more intent in his spell casting.

They levitated the men to outside the third ward and once back in their hiding place, Antonin shot a _Rennervate_ at them, hoping it would hit them both. It did and soon the wards were ringing once more. This time Talen knew what direction to expect them and was waiting for them.

Again, the Muggles were able to see the tent and again Antonin Stunned them before they could hurt anybody.

It took two more tries before the Muggles wandered around the clearing, wondering where the man they'd seen had gone. Then one had suggested moving off about twenty yards and the other complied quickly. Antonin let them go and he and Talen went back to camp happy. The Muggle-Repelling Charm wasn't perfect, but it worked if Antonin put enough intent and magic into it. Perhaps, Granger could improve the method somehow. He'd have to ask her when they returned to camp.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** **If you liked this chapter (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! You can find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or Facebook at Shan Crochetaway. My only beta is Grammarly; all other mistakes are mine.**

* * *

 _April 2003_

 _Ministry of Defense Compound_

 _Portland Bill, UK_

* * *

Dudley Dursley didn't get concerned about a lot of things. He mostly lived his life with the philosophy that most things in life would take care of themselves. That was _before_ though. Before the people like Harry were revealed to good, normal people. Now, Dudley was concerned about two things, well three. The first was the group of magic people he was tracking in the Forest of Dean. _He_ knew they were there, far too many scouts were disappearing for their not to be a group of magical beings to be there. Second, was Harry. He knew Rho knew who Harry was to Dudley, but he was desperate for his superiors to not find out. He didn't think it would be a problem but he was terrified that it would be. That he might even be discharged from the military. And that would not be acceptable to him. The third thing he was concerned about was Rho and how she knew Harry. It was also the thing he didn't _want_ to think about. Harry had basically implied that Rho was a witch, but that couldn't be true, could it?

Dudley shook his head and focused back on the scouting reports and maps in front of him. He'd thought he had the camp pinned down in the Forest of Dean, but he couldn't be entirely sure and he didn't know _why_ he had the feeling, but it felt as though things were escalating and that perhaps Dudley's time was running out. That worried him more than anything. He didn't know _what_ was coming, but it seemed pretty clear to him that _something_ was coming.

"Major Dursley, sir," his lieutenant saluted him and then stood at attention. Dudley looked up from the plans in front of him.

"Lieutenant Danvers, at ease," Dudley commanded. "Report."

"Yes, sir. A pair of junior scouts came back with a somewhat confusing story, sir. I can't quite make heads or tails of i—"

"Try," Dudley interrupted with a frown.

"They seem to have encountered a… wizard, is that what we're calling the men?" Dudley nodded and Danvers continued, "right, they encountered a wizard. Both remember passing out on more than one occasion. And—"

"Back up, where were they?"

"Forest of Dean, sir. Quadrant E, not quite where we expect the camp is, but near enough." Dudley waved to indicate Danvers should continue speaking. "They crept into a small clearing where there was a tent and a, uh, wizard standing. The wizard went _into_ the tent, and the men ordered him out. Then they both passed out."

Dudley raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"They woke up, about twenty yards into the forest. They stumbled onto the clearing and the tent and the, uh, wizard again. Then they passed out again."

This time Dudley raised both eyebrows.

"They woke up again, about twenty yards into the forest from the clearing," Danvers continued. "It happened again. The fourth time they woke up, they made it to the clearing and the tent was gone."

Dudley frowned. "It seems like the wizards were taunting them. But then they let them go? Why?"

"I'm not sure, sir," Danvers replied.

"That's it?" Dudley asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you for telling me. You may go." Dudley frowned as Danvers left his office. He'd asked his men to tell him of anything unusual, and that was unusual enough that it worried Dudley. Were the wizards fucking with his scouts? Or was there something else going on?

A sickening thought came to Dudley then: did the wizards figure out a way to reinstate the Muggle-Repelling Charms?

* * *

 _April 2003_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

* * *

"Harder, Finn," Hermione gasped as Rowle drove into her from below. Her back was to his chest, and her legs were straddled over his knees, his hands wrapped around her torso tightly. She had her own hands in his hair behind her. She couldn't move much in this position, but it was devastatingly hot to be spread over his lap like this.

"Fuck, little witch," Rowle growled into her shoulder, biting down during a particularly hard thrust.

"Finn," Hermione whined, she desperately wanted to reach a hand down to rub her clit. She was so fucking close, her skin broke out in gooseflesh as a coil of desire wrapped tighter and tighter inside her. Rowle had forbidden her from touching herself earlier though, he'd stuck her hands in his hair and told her if they moved from his head, he was going to tie her up and spank her.

While that did sound like fun, Hermione was desperate to come and didn't want _that_ delayed so that Rowle could punish her.

"You're waiting for me, remember, little witch?" Rowle whispered into her ear. "You come when I come." He bit her earlobe and Hermione nodded, remembering their agreement. She just wasn't used to this, Rowle usually let her come at least twice. This was an exercise in Hermione's patience. She bit her lip and began thinking about variables in the Muggle-Repelling Charm she'd recreated to see if she could get one to stick permanently the first time.

Rowle must have noticed she wasn't paying attention because he bit her shoulder again, harder this time as he drove his hips quickly into her. "Stay with me, little witch, I'm getting there."

"Finn, please," Hermione said again.

"Tell me what you need?" Rowle asked as he thumbed one of her nipples.

"I need to come, please let me come," Hermione begged. "I'd do _anything_ if I could just come!"

"Anything?" Rowle asked with a hint of humor in his voice.

"Anything," Hermione nodded. "Please."

"I'm going to hold you to that," Rowle said as he finally snaked a hand down to her clit and began teasing her there. First with just a small tap when he slid his cock out each time, then with a rub along the left side. Hermione tensed and then shattered around him. Her groan was loud and she would have collapsed had his strong arms not been holding her upright. Rowle came with her, his seed flooding her as his hips jerked. Then they both collapsed forward onto their bed.

"So glad, Dolohov finally gave us our own tent," Hermione grinned to Rowle. They had been unable to do much experimenting sharing with Gibbon and Yaxley.

"Merlin, witch. I give you an orgasm and not a minute later you're talking about another wizard. What am I going to have to do to you to get that brain of yours to shut off?"

Hermione laughed and kissed his chest as he cuddled her close. "Eh, probably won't ever be able to." She shrugged and missed the glint in Rowle's eyes at that challenge.

"I do think I may have figured out a variation on the Muggle-Repelling Charms to make it permanent," Hermione said.

"Just now, during sex?" Rowle asked incredulously.

"Don't be upset, Finn. I can't help it when I get my ideas," Hermione said as she sat up and began to get dressed. "Just be glad that I do get them." She tossed a wink at him as she put the malachite necklace over her head and sauntered out of the tent. She had some testing to do. Well, Dolohov had some testing to do. The less Hermione knew about how Dolohov was testing the charms, the better in her opinion.

Dolohov's tent was basically next door to her and Rowle's and Hermione was thankful that it wasn't Silencing Charms that had fallen or everyone would know what she and Rowle had been up to. She walked into Dolohov's tent to find both Yaxley and Gibbon in there as well.

"Done fucking Thor?" Gibbon asked. Hermione rolled her eyes at his sniping and ignored him as she'd taken to doing. He was only spoiling for a fight and Hermione was in a good mood.

"Och, don't be so hard on her," Yaxley said. "She looks good coming from a fresh fuck."

"Can you even tell?" Hermione asked. Once more, startled by the deep voice that emanated from her mouth when wearing the necklace. She really hated how she sounded wearing that thing.

"I knew it!" Yaxley exclaimed. "Pay up Antonin, Connor."

"Merlin, save me from idiotic wizards," Hermione said under her breath as both Dolohov and Gibbon handed a Galleon to Yaxley. She'd walked right into it, so it shouldn't have surprised her.

Rowle joined them a moment later, scowling at Hermione in her disguise.

"I have an idea," Hermione announced. "About the Muggle-Repelling Charms and a way to make them more permanent and to work on the first time."

"Do tell," Gibbon said with a small yawn.

Hermione ignored him once more. She was exercising her patience left and right today. "So Malfoy put rune stones into the ley line to corrupt the line and the magic that was based on it. What if we did the same to the new ley line. But instead of Hagalaz, Nauthiz, and Thurisaz, we use Eihwaz—"

"Strength and reliability," Rowle said. Hermione nodded.

"Kenaz," Hermione said.

"For knowledge?" Rowle asked, furrowing his brow as if he wasn't sure.

"And technical ability. And Algiz." Hermione said.

"Protection?" Rowle asked again.

"To protect the ley line actually. So nobody else can fuck with it."

"That's brilliant. But will it work?" Dolohov asked.

Hermione shrugged. "No idea, I can run some Arithmetic probabilities and see what they come up with, but I think something has to be done to the ley line itself to prevent someone else from doing this again."

"Alright, get working on that," Dolohov said. "I've been ruminating on where we think other wizarding enclaves are and how we can draw them out."

"Perhaps the old villages?" Gibbon suggested.

Hermione had never heard of the old villages. Just as she was about to ask, Rowle filled her in.

"The old villages are traditional wizarding villages, they fell out of common practice in the early 1900s when there was a fairly large wizarding migration to the major towns and London itself."

"If they fell out of use, why do you think there would be people in them now?" Hermione asked.

"We don't know, obviously," Gibbon said coldly. Hermione held her tongue, but she practically bit through it in her attempt to not say something nasty. "But we have to look somewhere. I can't believe the Muggles would be so capable of killing wizards that we're the only ones left."

"Where's the nearest one?" Yaxley asked. "We should check them one at a time, and perhaps, _we_ ," he indicated the four wizards in the tent, "aren't the people who should go looking."

"And why not?" Gibbon asked angrily.

"Death Eaters," Rowle replied. "We're all Death Eaters, and escaped convicts. Perhaps, we should form a delegation of those who aren't hardened criminals."

"Can we trust them?" Gibbon sneered.

"We're going to have to," Dolohov said closing the discussion.

"We have another issue," Hermione said rubbing the back of her neck. She grimaced and pointed her wand at the tent flap, barring entry and then took off the malachite necklace. She frowned at it as it dangled from her hands.

"What issue, Granger?" Dolohov asked.

"We need to find a way to counteract the technology the Muggles have created to find and track us. We know they can do it, it's not an accident that 'scouts' keep getting sent in here. We need to know what they have and how it works in order for us to have a chance to thwart it."

"Merlin, I hadn't even thought of that," Rowle murmured. He slipped his hands around Hermione's waist, holding her to him. He hated her 'Herman' persona as much as Hermione did and never touched her when she was disguised. But the moment she took the necklace off, he had his hands on her in some capacity. Gibbon scowled, but Hermione ignored it. Yaxley wiggled his eyebrows at her. She ignored him too.

"What do you suggest?" Dolohov asked with a sigh.

Hermione shrugged. "I guess we could kidnap a scout? Pump him for information. Hope he has one of those ray-gun thing-a-ma-bob's and perhaps reverse engineer it. Although I'm not sure we have the equipment for that."

"Alright, kidnapping scouts, that's easily done," Dolohov said. Hermione felt uncomfortable at the casual way he announced that. "Although we'll need to find someplace secure to keep the scouts. Can't have them in camp or we'll cause a riot."

"Where do you go now when you're testing the Muggle-Repelling Charms?" Hermione asked. "That might work."

"I don't think so," Dolohov shook his head. "It's the same place we lure the scouts from. We'll find something."

"Right, well, make sure to let me know when you have someone so I can help interrogate," Hermione said.

Gibbon snorted and finally, Hermione found she couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"Problem, Gibbon?" she asked snottily.

"Interrogate Muggles? You? You wouldn't know how to interrogate a Muggle if Hogwarts offered classes on it."

"Merlin, Gibbon! Do you know anything about Muggle sciences?" Hermione asked. When Gibbon didn't respond, just continued to glare at her, Hermione went on. "Of fucking course, you don't. Do any of you?" No response. "I do! I know about Muggle sciences and I can even tell you a bit about how I suspect those ray-gun things work! Don't you want an end to this? Don't you want the world to go back to the way it was?"

"I don't," Rowle said.

"Same," Gibbon sneered.

"We were in Azkaban, love," Yaxley reminded her.

"Fine! How about before you all were in Azkaban? Wouldn't you like to go back to that world? That's what I'm trying to make happen."

"Voldemort," Gibbon coughed.

Hermione growled in frustration. "Don't you fucking get it, Gibbon? We haven't found any witches. Have hardly found any wizards, except one or two hiding out. What we have found is a whole Muggle army after our hides. We need to fix this because it doesn't appear that anyone else is even bothering! And if they aren't, then this will be our life. Hunted by Muggles. I _refuse_ to live like this anymore. So you'll fucking tell me when you get a damned Muggle in captivity so I can question him! Got it?" Hermione was panting by the end of that tirade and Rowle had stepped back from her. She could feel her hair rising around her as her magic coursed through her body. It always acted like that when she was really angry.

"Good reasons, Granger," Dolohov said diplomatically. Yaxley snorted and hid a smile. Gibbon frowned and walked out of the tent, tearing through the wards Hermione had put up. She flipped the necklace over her head, becoming Herman once more.

"I've got laundry to do," she said as she too stalked out of the tent to find Nott and Flint.

Hermione had come to term her laundry time as her thinking time. Nott and Flint were often silent and their silence allowed Hermione to spend her time thinking through things. She began running arithmetic equations on the likelihood of success by using rune stones with the ley line, but she really needed quill and parchment for that. Instead, she thought about how the ray-guns would work. They dampened magical ability when activated. The group hadn't held on to one for long. Dolohov thought they were too dangerous to bring into the camp, but it also meant Hermione didn't know how long the effects lasted. Were they constant? Was there a trigger? She didn't know.

What could magic be made of that the Muggles could detect? Photons? Magic did seem to live on the light spectrum on some sense. Or radiation? It wouldn't be unheard of if magic was some sort of radiation. Maybe radiation that Muggles couldn't detect? _Until now_. It also begged the question of just who was working with the Muggles. Hermione had to believe that there was a wizard who was helping the Muggles. But why? And who?

She had more questions than answers. A state Hermione had always found frustrating. She groaned allowed as she hung her portion of the laundry on the line.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Nott asked from right behind her. Hermione gasped and whirled around.

"Startled me, Nott," Hermione said. She just barely kept her grimace from showing at the sound of her deep voice.

Nott shrugged. He pointed his wand at the laundry and cast a drying charm. Hermione turned and did the same, acutely aware of Nott at her back.

"Offer stands," Nott grunted.

"Ah, it's nothing," Hermione said.

"Hmm," Nott didn't say anything else and Hermione wondered if he knew who she really was. She'd attended school with Nott after all. She'd had several classes with him over the years. She shook her head. It wasn't something she could think about now. If Nott knew he wasn't telling anyone and that was good enough for Hermione.

* * *

 _April 2003_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Six Miles from Death Eater Encampment_

* * *

"Here?" Hermione said, looking warily at the cave in front of her. It was dark and Hermione had never liked enclosed spaces. She shuddered and didn't care that in her Herman disguise she looked like a wimp.

"Yes," Dolohov replied. He guided her forward with a hand at the small of her back. "Don't take off your necklace," he reminded her.

"Got it," Hermione grumbled. It was just her and Dolohov, and while a few months ago that would have scared Hermione shitless, now she was used to the gruff Russian. He was a competent leader and Hermione found she rather liked him. Something she hadn't thought possible a few months ago. _A few months ago you wouldn't be fucking Finn either_ , a voice in her brain helpfully provided. Hermione couldn't deny the truth of it. She tried not to think of her feelings for Rowle, but it was clear that she felt quite deeply for him, however much she tried to hide it. She could only hope that he felt the same. She had no intention of throwing herself at him once this whole thing was over. There was probably a bevy of other witches who would kill to get someone like Rowle in bed.

"Focus," Dolohov said as he lifted the enchantments on the front of the cave and Hermione found herself in a well-lit cave with three cells built along the wall. Each cell held a Muggle dressed in army fatigues. The first one stood—obviously the leader of their scouting group—and glared at her and Dolohov.

"What do you want?" his voice didn't shake and for that, Hermione had to commend him. He directed his question to Dolohov behind her. Even as a man, Hermione was overlooked.

"We just want some answers," Hermione said evenly.

"We're not talking," he insisted, still talking to Dolohov.

"Hey, army-man, I'm the one you're talking to. He's just the help," Hermione said. She knew she had to get him to respect her or she'd never get any answers. "Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. It's your choice, but we'll get answers one way or another." She felt a bit like a bad movie villain, but she wanted to be perfectly clear about their intentions. She didn't actually plan on hurting them or at least casting too dark of hexes, but if they were going to be stubborn, well a Tickling Jinx, when applied for more than twenty minutes, became very uncomfortable.

"I'm not afraid of you, boy," the man scoffed.

Hermione grinned wickedly. "It's not me you should be afraid of, but him." She pointed over her shoulder at Dolohov who was leaning against the cave wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "I told you. He's the help. I'm the one with the questions."

The man narrowed his eyes at Hermione. "I'm not answering your questions."

"We'll start easy," Hermione said. "I don't even care what your name is, where you're from, or any of that. But rest assured, that if I wanted that information so that I could visit your home with your wife and children, I could get it." She was slightly gratified to see that the man gulped heavily. She wasn't quite sure where she was going with this, but she had a hunch. "All I want to know is who your boss is. One name. That's it. And then we'll erase this memory from your mind and let you go."

Dolohov coughed behind her, but Hermione ignored him. She assumed that he was not going to agree to an Obliviate, but what the prisoners thought didn't actually matter to Hermione.

"One name?" the man in the second cell asked.

Hermione smiled warmly at him. "One name. That's all I need." _For now_ , she thought.

"Dursley. Major Dudley Dursley is our commander," the man in the second cell blurted out.

"Jenkins!" the man in the first cell scolded and Hermione smiled.

She knew exactly who Dudley Dursley was. The question was, did any of these men know who he was in relation to the wizarding world? Somehow she wasn't as shocked as she should have been. Harry had always attracted the most trouble. It made some sort of poetic sense to her that it would be his cousin who was hunting wizards down.

"Any other names you feel like sharing?" Hermione asked. She assumed it would be a long shot, but the man in the third cell spoke up.

"Rho. It's Dursley's girlfriend and she works in the lab. There's something… off about her."

"Cartwright!" the man in the first cell shouted. "You will tell them no more! I'll have you both court marshaled for this."

"You won't remember it, Cornings," Jenkins said. "He said they'd erase our memory. You won't remember any of this."

Hermione's lips twitched. It seemed her prisoners were in a talkative mood. "What can you tell me about these?" she held up one of the ray-guns and all three of the men refused to answer.

"We're not giving you a way to stop us," Cornings snapped. "Names were bad enough. No more." He glared at his two companions and Hermione shrugged. She had enough.

"Let's go," she told Dolohov and the two of them walked out of the cave.

"Do you know this Dursley?" Dolohov asked.

"You aren't going to believe it," Hermione said. Dolohov reached an arm out to stop her and Hermione turned to face him.

"Try me."

"Dudley Dursley is Harry Potter's cousin. Harry grew up with Dudley, it's who he lived with after his parents were killed. I wish I knew where Harry was…" she trailed off.

"What do you mean?" Dolohov asked.

"Never mind." Hermione shook her head. She wasn't going to discuss Harry and Ron with Dolohov or anyone in the Death Eater encampment. "The good thing is we have a name now. I wish I knew more about Dudley, but Harry hardly ever talked about him. Let's get back to camp, I want to finish the rune stones and get them laid today."

Dolohov let her pull away and they made their way back to camp in silence. Hermione was pondering the news they had just learned and trying to figure out what it meant for them. Hopefully, this was the turning point they needed. As soon as the Muggle-Repelling Charms started working again, she was going to start reverse-engineering the ray-guns they had confiscated from the scouts.

* * *

 _May 2003_

 _Ministry of Defense Compound_

 _Portland Bill, UK_

* * *

Harry rose to consciousness slowly.

"Harry, Harry," someone was saying over and over again. He blinked his eyes, trying to focus on the individual leaning over him. He sighed when he realized it was Dudley.

Dudley. The cousin he could have been kinder to. The cousin who was currently keeping him sedated and using his magic to fuel some sort of devices that Harry didn't quite understand. Harry wasn't naïve enough to think that Dudley was behind it all. He was just a cog in the machine. But a powerful cog. One using his connections to Harry to better himself. Harry wasn't stupid. He knew how the world worked, the Muggle and Wizarding worlds weren't all that different when power was at stake.

"D-Dudley," he sighed. His throat was parched and he coughed, as he sat up. Dudley got him a glass of water, helping Harry sip it.

Harry was too tired, too disoriented to be shocked. Although, some small part of him recognized that this was the kindest Dudley had probably ever been to him. He wished he'd tried to reconnect with Dudley after the war. If Harry had been a better person, he would have. But he'd been all too happy to leave the Muggle world and his Muggle relations behind him. He'd fully embraced the wizarding world and had been happy with it. Perhaps, if he had paid more attention to Dudley, he wouldn't be where he was now.

Or, maybe he'd be dead like Ron was. Harry felt himself come fully awake at that thought.

"What do you want, Dudley?"

"What do you know of the Forest of Dean?" Dudley asked.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath. He hadn't thought of the Forest of Dean since the Horcrux hunt with Hermione and Ron.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"You know something," Dudley accused. "Tell me what you know."

"All I know is that some friends and I went camping the Forest of Dean several years back. During the war."

Dudley looked confused at the mention of a war and Harry shook his head. "Doesn't matter."

"So none of your friends would be hiding in it now?" Dudley asked. The skepticism was heavy in his voice and Harry wondered what was going on. Would Dudley answer his questions if he asked?

"You killed my friend, remember?" Harry reminded him. "I don't know of anyone who would be hiding in the Forest of Dean." Even if he did think Hermione might be hiding there, he wouldn't give her up to Dudley.

Dudley growled and kicked the table on wheels next to Harry's bed, causing it to crash over onto its side. He left the room in a huff, not putting Harry back under sedation. Harry couldn't believe his luck. He was still hooked up to all manner of machines and after months of lying in a bed, Harry had no doubt it would be difficult for him to try and walk, but maybe he wouldn't have to do the walking.

The machine used to drain his magic, shut off every evening around seven and turned back on every morning at seven. Giving him a full twelve hours each day to regenerate his magic. If he could manage to wake up before the tech came in to turn it back on in the morning, he might be able to have enough magic at his disposal to do something with it. He didn't have a wand, but he had always been half-decent at wandless magic. If he was desperate enough, he thought it might work. The harder part would be staying awake and alert throughout the night without making it seem like he was. He couldn't afford to get worked up, or he'd set off all sorts of alarm bells.

Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was half past six in the evening. A tech would be in soon to shut off the magic draining machine. Harry needed to appear to be sedated by the time that tech arrived or he'd be sedated immediately and his chance would be gone.

He was almost asleep when the tech came in to shut off the machine. The tech didn't say anything, and was only in the room moments before leaving, shutting off the lights as he did so. Harry let out a low breath. Now to wait until morning.

* * *

 _May 2003_

 _Ministry of Defense Compound_

 _Portland Bill, UK_

* * *

The following morning, the tech who entered Harry's room seemed sleepy and not quite there. _Even better_ , Harry thought. The moment the tech leaned over Harry to check his vitals, Harry grasped his arm tightly.

" _Imperius_ ," Harry hissed. The tech stiffened, a blank look crossing his face. "You will leave work. Tell them you don't feel well. Go to where they are looking for wizards in the Forest of Dean. Ask for Hermione Granger. Tell her Harry sent you. Tell her where I am and how to get in. Help her in any way she needs."

The tech nodded and turned to go.

"Finish in here first," Harry said. He didn't want to be sedated and his heart was racing at the huge amount of magic he'd just used. He couldn't risk another tech deciding it was strange and forcing a drug into his IV.

The tech took Harry's vitals, recording them in the chart that hung at the end of Harry's bed, and then turned on the machine, draining Harry of his remaining magic. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd been sedated. The moment the machine turned on, Harry passed out. His last thought was hoping that Hermione would receive the message.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** **If you liked this chapter (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! You can find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or Facebook at Shan Crochetaway. My only beta is Grammarly; all other mistakes are mine.**

 **Also, I don't say this nearly enough, but I love each and every review I get. I read them all! So thank you, dear readers, for your kind words! I know the updates on this story are slow, so I appreciate that you are all sticking with me on this journey.**

* * *

 _June 2003_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

* * *

"Please, don't kill me!" a weedy looking scout in Muggle-wear begged Antonin. He wasn't dressed in military garb, which made Antonin suspicious. Why would a civilian Muggle be out here? He was sure that the Forest of Dean had been quarantined from the rest of the Muggles. It's what he would have done if he was leading the Muggle military.

Antonin sighed and glanced around at his men. Yaxley, Nott, and Flint were out with him. Would it be better to kill the Muggle as a show of power? Or negotiate as a show of leadership? Antonin was a natural leader, he knew that, but the camp was getting to be nearly a year old, and restlessness was running high.

"Give me a reason why?" Antonin asked.

"Och, just Avada him and be done with it," Yaxley complained. Flint and Nott were silent, watching the conversation, their wands drawn but lowered to the ground.

"No! I want to speak to Hermione Granger! Please!" the scout looked between both Antonin and Yaxley, his brown eyes were filling with tears. He'd been forced to his knees already, and Antonin disliked how he towered over the Muggle.

"How do you know that name?" Antonin hissed. _Fuck_. Nott and Flint didn't know about Granger. This was going to prove complicated.

"I just do! I was told to come here, the Forest of Dean, and ask for her. I have information for her. I'm supposed to tell her—" the man's voice cut off abruptly and his face began turning red as his air supply was cut off. Clearly, he was under some sort of curse, which meant whoever sent him was magical.

"Alright, stop trying to talk about it." When the Muggle's face didn't lessen in color, and he looked to be on the point of passing out, Antonin stunned him.

"Go get Granger," Antonin told Yaxley. "Bring her to the caves where we kept those other Muggle scouts."

"Who do you think sent him?" Yaxley asked, eyeing the Muggle with a mixture of disdain and disgust.

"No fucking clue," Antonin responded as he levitated the Muggle. He didn't need any more complications. It was getting bad enough in the camp, but if this Muggle could help get the military off their backs, he might be worth it.

"Imperius, you think?" Yaxley asked, clearly delaying going back to camp. Antonin sighed and glared at him.

"Seems likely," Antonin replied shortly.

"Shouldn't you remove it?"

Antonin sighed. "Fuck. No. I want to know who cursed him and why. I think leaving it on is the best way to figure that out. Now go get Granger." He pointed back toward the camp and watched as Yaxley set off in a slow jog.

"Not a word," Antonin warned Nott and Flint, who had been silent through the whole exchange. "I'll explain in due time. Let's go." Then he began the long trek to the cave where they had set up their temporary holding cells. Hoping that he would be able to contain the fallout from this fiasco in the making.

* * *

 _June 2003_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

* * *

Hermione was running through a few Arithmetic calculations on what the possible properties that they ray-gun things used when Yaxley burst into the tent she shared with Rowle.

"Woah, what if we were naked in here?" Rowle asked indignantly. He'd been sorting through the pieces of ray-gun that Hermione had taken apart earlier

Yaxley was panting and bent over at the waist with his hands on his knees. He held up a finger, in the 'wait a moment' signal and Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to her calculations. If she reconfigured the moon cycle, would that change the—

"Granger, you're needed," Yaxley said, interrupting her train of thought.

"For?" Hermione asked, tapping the parchment with her wand to move some of the calculations around.

"Scout. Asked for you by name."

"What?" Hermione asked, turning around to face him. "Who was it?"

"...the fuck?" Rowle asked, standing suddenly, appearing to try and menace Yaxley. As if it were Yaxley's fault that some Muggle scout had asked for her by name.

"I don't know! Some Muggle. But he asked for you." Yaxley shrugged, still breathing hard.

"Fuck, alright, let's go then. Where to?" Hermione stood quickly grabbing her necklace.

"The caves."

"I'm coming," Rowle grunted. Hermione could hear the frown on his face as she donned her malachite necklace and waved her hand, indicating she heard him. Of course, they ran into Gibbon directly outside the tent. Gibbon leered at her, but Hermione ignored him. She could hear Gibbon and Rowle murmuring behind her. She ignored them both and tried to think of all the Muggles she knew that would also work in the military and perhaps know a bit of what was going on, but she couldn't think of anyone.

By the time they got to the caves, Hermione's nerves were practically shot. Her hands were shaking, and she was surprised when Rowle wrapped his hand around hers. He hardly ever touched her when she was wearing the necklace, but the fact that he was paying such close attention to her was rather sweet.

"He only asked for Granger," Dolohov greeted them outside of the caves. He was scowling at Rowle and Gibbon. Shockingly, Flint and Nott were with him, and Hermione's heart started racing. More people were going to find out her secret.

Yaxley shrugged.

"That's Granger?" Flint asked, staring at her. Nott had a smirk on his face like he'd known all along and Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. Rowle pulled the necklace over her head, removing the glamor. "Fuck," Flint grunted. "Why have you been hiding her?" His eyes flick to the way Rowle's hand was still entwined with Hermione's. "Oh, I see how it is. Well, I want a piece too, then! I haven't had any trim in fucking months."

Rowle moved quicker than Hermione thought he was capable of and backed Flint into a tree. His hand was around Flint's throat, practically pulling him off of his feet.

"Hermione is a person, _not_ a commodity," Rowle said, his voice low and menacing.

Nott was still smirking at her and Gibbon was scowling at the by-play. She could see Dolohov losing his patience and decided that Rowle had the Flint thing handled.

"What's going on?" she asked Dolohov, stepping forward into the cave proper. She could see the newest scout, in what looked like medical scrubs, of all things. "That's not a scout," she said, pointing at the newest addition. The other three were sitting sullenly, watching the proceedings.

"It's not?" Nott asked. He followed her into the cave.

"No. That is some sort of medical professional." Hermione knelt on the floor in the front of the cell, peering closely at the man in scrubs. He was a skinny thing and didn't appear to be much taller than herself. "What's your name?"

"Jeremy," the man said. His voice sounded rusty from disuse.

"Hi, Jeremy. I'm Hermione."

"Hermione Granger?" Jeremy whispered.

Hermione nodded.

"Oh, thank God," Jeremy said, tears beginning to track down his cheeks. "I had no idea if I was going to find you, or how I was going to find you. I just knew that I had to. And then these… these men," he waved at the motley crew standing behind Hermione—she glanced behind her to find Flint sulking in the opening of the cave, Rowle looked satisfied, and had his massive arms crossed over his chest, looking down his nose at the scene before him, "and then they _did_ something to me, made me pass out they did!"

"Shh, it's alright, Jeremy," Hermione said, trying to reassure him as she turned back to face him. "They won't hurt you. They brought you here to protect you."

"From what?" Jeremy asked. His dark brown eyes looked so fearful that Hermione had the urge to open the cell and hug him. She stifled the feeling as she knew exactly what the half-dozen wizards behind her would do if she did something like that. She glanced around the cave again; Dolohov and Nott had come to either side of her, also crouching down. Yaxley was half-grinning as his eyes bounced between Flint and Rowle. Gibbon was scowling at them all, leaning against the far wall.

"From the other wizards in our camp," Hermione explained. No use sugar-coating it for him. They needed his cooperation, and Hermione hoped that the best way to get it would be honesty.

"They'd hurt me?" Jeremy whispered. He looked so young that Hermione wondered how old he was.

"They'd want to. Your people are hurting us, after all. Retribution and all that." Hermione waved her hand as she changed the topic. "But that's not what you're here for. Can you tell me who sent you?"

"Harry Potter."

Exclamations were heard throughout the cave, but Hermione had her eyes solely focussed on Jeremy and ignored everyone else.

"Is he alright?" Hermione asked.

Jeremy shrugged. "He's drugged most of the time. I have no idea how he was able to speak to me at all. He said some funny word to me… imperial or something like that? Then he gave me instructions to find you and help you any way I could."

"You can't tell me you trust that filthy Muggle," Gibbon scoffed.

Hermione took a deep breath, ignoring Gibbon.

"What'd he look like?" Hermione asked.

"Potter? He had dark hair, black. It was unruly, messy. He was wearing glasses when he came in, but they're gone now. Bright green eyes. Brightest green I've ever seen actually. Oh, and a weird, funny-shaped scar on his forehead."

The relief that flowed through Hermione's veins was palpable. She almost collapsed from it.

"I'm going to need you to fill me in on the situation," Hermione breathed.

"Oh, come on!" Gibbon protested again.

Hermione looked sharply at Dolohov to her right, and he rolled his eyes and got to his feet. There was a scuffle behind her, but she didn't bother turning around. Jeremy was the best thing that had happened since the Muggle-Repelling Charms went down and she wasn't about to let Gibbon ruin it for them all.

"Maybe we could go somewhere a little more comfortable?" Nott suggested. Hermione had almost forgotten he was there, she turned to him and realized the other three prisoners were shouting and gesticulating wildly. No doubt, they would influence Jeremy if they weren't silenced.

"Yes, we should," Hermione said. She stood, and Rowle was at her side instantly. "Let's grab a spare tent to set up outside of the cave entrance," she told him. "It'll give us some privacy, and hopefully it will open Jeremy up to speaking more freely. A meal wouldn't be amiss either."

"I'm on it, little witch," Rowle breathed into her hair. He gave her shoulders a squeeze and the top of her head a kiss before stepping away to Apparate.

Dolohov had made it back into the cave at that point. Hermione strode forward, ignoring the leering of Yaxley and the black look Flint gave her. She led him outside of the cave and told him her plan. Dolohov agreed reluctantly, then turned to Flint.

"You can either take an Unbreakable Vow right now to swear you will speak of nothing you learned today, or I can Obliviate you. Your choice," Dolohov told Flint. The steel in his voice sounded final.

"Why doesn't Nott have to?" Flint asked petulantly.

"Because unlike you, I'm not a troll," Nott said, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "Besides, I've known who _Herman_ was for months and haven't told a soul."

"Fine," Flint spat.

Rowle appeared then; a rolled up tent in his hands. A few flicks of his wand and the tent was set up and ready to go. Hermione ignored Dolohov, Yaxley, and Flint as Flint made his Unbreakable Vow. She and Nott returned to the cave to retrieve Jeremy. Nott insisted on binding him, but Hermione didn't really think he was a risk to her or anyone else.

Finally, Jeremy was settled in the tent with a cup of tea. A strong sticking charm ensured he wouldn't be leaving his chair, and the chair wouldn't be leaving the floor of the tent, anytime soon.

Dolohov, Nott, and Rowle were in the tent with her and Jeremy. She tried arguing that the three of them were unnecessary, but they each refused to leave.

"Don't you trust me," she hissed to Rowle.

"Of course, I do!" Rowle insisted. "It's the Imperiused Muggle I don't trust. Besides, I won't say a word; I'll just stand watch." He cupped her face then, and Hermione couldn't help but ease into his touch, just a fraction.

"Fine," she murmured. Rowle bent his head and gave her a swift, chaste kiss on the lips.

Hermione turned from him with a half smile and Nott immediately accosted her.

"How long has that been going on?" Nott asked, jerking his thumb at Rowle who had been drawn into conversation with Dolohov.

"A while," Hermione hedged. "How long have you known who I was?"

"A while." Nott smirked at her.

Hermione narrowed her eyes for a moment, then smiled. "I'm glad you know. I bloody hate pretending to be _Herman_." She shuddered for effect and was pleased when Nott laughed.

"Well, now you have one less person to hide it from. Is it serious between you and Rowle?"

Hermione shrugged. She tried not to think too hard about what was going on between her and Rowle. Were they in a relationship? Could fantastic sex and a somewhat forced closeness _be_ a relationship? After they got wizarding society back would Rowle even want her? Dumpy, swotty, Hermione would be no match for any other witch should one deign to crook her finger Rowle's way. She took so long to answer, Nott spoke again.

"Didn't mean to send you off into an existential crisis, Granger," he laughed nervously.

Hermione took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face. "Sorry, got to thinking of other things. Rowle and I are serious enough. You saw him with Flint." She shrugged again.

"Right," Nott smiled at her and Hermione was happy that someone else knew her secret.

"Alright," Hermione clapped her hands together, and she settled at the table across from Jeremy. Dolohov, Rowle, and Nott joined them, and Hermione began. "What can you tell us of the organizational structure?"

"Of the army base?" Jeremy asked. "I'm not sure I know everything."

"Just tell us what you do know," Hermione assured him.

* * *

 _June 2003_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

* * *

"And what do you know of these?" Hermione finally asked several hours later. She set a ray-gun on the table, and Jeremy's eyes widened. "Save me your false indignation," Hermione said. "You saw that we had other prisoners. We don't want to hurt you or your kind, all we want to do is fix the barrier between the worlds so that our people can come out of hiding."

"Okay," Jeremy said. His eyes never left the ray-gun.

"We know what they do," Hermione said. "They dampen our magic. We've done some testing and one squeeze of the trigger while the end is within a twenty degree field of a wizard, at a distance of no more than fifty yards, and that wizard will be unable to do any magic for the next twenty minutes or so; depending on how powerful that wizard is to begin with."

"Right," Jeremy said, finally meeting Hermione's eyes.

"What we need to know, is how they work. What did the Muggles find that made this thing work?" Hermione asked. It was terrifying and idiotic, in a darkly hilarious way, that wizards knew almost nothing about how magic actually worked.

"I don't know." Jeremy shook his head. "They were always going on about these things," he pointed to the ray-gun, "they call them MUTE's—"

"What does that stand for?" Dolohov asked.

"Magical use transmission equalizers, I think?" Jeremy replied. "And they talked about madar too."

"Madar?" Hermione asked. "Like radar?"

"Yeah," Jeremy said.

"What's radar?" Rowle asked.

"Radar is a Muggle technology used to detect radio waves. I assume madar is what they created to detect magic. It still doesn't tell us what magic _is_ though. And without that…" Hermione trailed off.

"Well, it's something to do with radiation," Jeremy offered up.

"What?" Nott asked.

"Where can we get a Geiger counter?" Hermione asked Jeremy.

"Woah, slow down, what is radiation?" Rowle asked.

"It's a type of energy," Hermione explained. "I don't know much more about it than that, but if magic is some sort of radiation, Muggles of have a machine called a Geiger counter that can recognize radiation. If we had one, we could check for sure if that is what magic is comprised of."

"Muggles know about magic?" Dolohov asked.

"Muggles use radiation differently," Hermione said. "But essentially yes. Lots of things have radiation, especially astronomical bodies like the sun gives off a tremendous amount of radiation. And radiation in too large of a dose can kill a Muggle.

"That makes me wonder if Muggle and magical biology is different in some way? What protects us from the sun…"

"The electromagnetic field around the earth," Jeremy supplied. "It's why astronauts are so vulnerable in space."

"So maybe wizards have some sort of electromagnetic field of their own that protects them from the radiation that magic has," Hermione mused.

"Do you understand any of this?" Rowle asked Nott and Dolohov.

"No," Dolohov shook his head.

"A little," Nott nodded. He continued at the odd looks Rowle and Dolohov gave him. "I was rebellious," Nott shrugged, "I used to read Muggle science books."

Hermione grinned at him. "It's all Muggle science, which I don't have the greatest grasp of, but I have been trying to keep abreast of it when I could. Regardless, it doesn't matter how wizards protect themselves from the radiation—if it really is radiation—what matters is that we find out if it is and if there is a way we can block the effects of the ray-gun."

"So a Geiger counter thing?" Nott asked. "How do we get those?"

"We can probably get them at a sports and hunting shop," Jeremy offered.

"Really? I thought they were something only the government could get," Hermione said.

"Well, there's been a rush in survivalist groups, since the turn of the century," Jeremy said. He shrugged. "My step-dad's one of them. So the sports and hunting stores started carrying stuff like that."

"Right, well we need to get our hands on one. The sooner, the better," Hermione said with finality.

* * *

 _June 2003_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

* * *

"Do you have any idea how fucking hot it makes me watching your brain work?" Rowle asked later that night. They had settled Jeremy into the tent outside the caves, casting heavy enchantments and wards to keep him safe and to stop him from running away, before returning to the camp.

"Oh?" Hermione asked, an amused smirk on her face. Her malachite necklace had been ripped off the moment she was in their tent. She longed for the day she didn't have to wear it anymore.

"Yes," Rowle growled, stalking forward.

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned her back to him. She lifted her shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor beside her. Then took her bra off too. She felt Rowle's hands cupping her breasts as he reached his arms around her. He pulled her to him tightly, and she could feel his length at the small of her back.

"Fucking gorgeous," Rowle murmured as he dropped kisses along her shoulder. She pushed her hair to one side and tilted her head as he kissed his way up her neck.

"Am I?" Hermione asked. Immediately horrified at that level of insecurity slipping out.

Rowle stiffened behind her and Hermione braced herself. She'd opened the door; now she had a feeling she would have to follow the conversation through. Rowle wouldn't let her drop it. He turned her in his arms and peered down at her. His bright blue eyes looked confused.

"Where is this coming from?" Rowle asked.

"Just…" Hermione sighed, "what are we? Is this a relationship?" She gestured between them. "What happens when the world rights itself? I know I'm not that pretty. I haven't…" she trailed off. Unable to admit that she'd been holding her heart back.

"Merlin," Rowle grunted. He stepped back from her and ran a hand through his hair. "You want to talk about this now?"

Hermione bent down and grabbed her t-shirt, throwing it over her head once more. Then she nodded., crossing her arms over her chest.

"Fine. The way I feel about you, Hermione Granger… I don't even know if I can put it into words. I think about you all the time. I think about the things I think you'd like or would hate. Like how you love it when blueberries are available for breakfast but don't like raspberries. Or how you only hum Muggle songs when bathing. I think about what I can do to make your life just a little bit easier. And… Salazar witch. I would follow you to the ends of the earth, and I thank every deity in the world that we ran into you that day in the woods. I feel so lucky that not only we found you, but that you even deign to be in the same room as me. How could the brilliant, swotty, beautiful, Hermione Granger, even want a big, dumb, ex-Death Eater like me? How can you even look at me without running the other way? I'll never understand it, but Merlin…" Rowle suddenly crossed the room, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. "I love you," he murmured just before pressing a kiss to her lips.

It was what Hermione needed to hear. What she needed more than she even realized as she returned the kiss. She couldn't tell him. She wouldn't tell him that she'd doubted what they had. That she'd been holding herself back. He didn't deserve to know how fickle she'd been. She vowed to do better, to be better. She wanted to be more present when it was just them; she wanted to know him as well as it seemed he knew her. She wanted to know what his favorite fruit was and she hated herself just a little bit that she didn't know.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** **My only beta is Grammarly; all other mistakes are mine.** **If you liked this chapter (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! You can find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or Facebook at Shan Crochetaway.**

 **Thank you, dear readers, for your kind words! I know the updates on this story are slow, so I appreciate that you are all sticking with me on this journey.**

* * *

 _July 2003_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

* * *

"We have to get him out," Hermione said. "If what Jeremy said is true, we need to free Harry. Without him, the Muggles won't have the ray-guns! They are siphoning off his magic and using it to power the ray-guns. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"Even so," Dolohov argued. "We don't know where he's being held. The Muggle made it seem like a pretty large military complex, we can't just go in there wands blazing. They'll throw a ray-gun at us and we'll be fucked. And it's not just us," he indicated the six of them in his tent, "we have over a hundred wizards in this camp. I won't lead them to their deaths."

"Nobody is suggesting that," Theo said. Hermione was pleased he'd been brought into their little council and more pleased that he seemed to back her stance.

"They are bio-hacking Harry's magic in order to detect other magic. Then somehow, they are using his magic to produce the ray-guns. It's the only thing that really makes sense. Which means they have a witch or wizard on the inside. We need to talk to Jeremy more to see if he knows who it is, but regardless, this will never end if we don't do something about it."

"Hermione's right," Rowle agreed. "This isn't a life, you and I both know that we don't want to spend our days leading this rebel camp hiding from Muggles."

Gibbon snorted at that, and Yaxley was nodding along. Hermione hoped that meant they would be able to sway Dolohov.

"We're the superior beings," Gibbon said. "It's about time we _act_ like it."

It was Yaxley's turn to snort. "Since they've been killing us for a year, I don't think we're so superior anymore."

"Semantics," Gibbon growled. "I agree with Granger. We have to put a stop to it. But we can't go in there without figuring out a way to either counteract or disable the ray-guns and whatever else they have that can detect magic."

Hermione sighed. "I've been working on that for weeks, and I can't figure it out. I don't know enough about Muggle science, and while Theo and Jeremy are helpful, neither of them quite have the knowledge either."

"What if we dampen our magic until we're inside?" Theo suggested. "We could sneak in, pretend to be workers or whatever."

"Oh! We could fake our identification or hack into their computer system!" Hermione was excited about this idea. This seemed infinitely doable when compared to the impossibility of figuring out how the ray-guns worked. That's what had led her to the conclusion that the ray-guns had to be running off of Harry's magic somehow. It also made sense that there was a witch or wizard working with the Muggles. Hermione almost couldn't wait to get her hands on that person. She had a lot of questions. And a few curses.

"Who can do something like that?" Dolohov asked. "Use a compu-thing? Hack into their systems?"

"Not me," Hermione admitted, "but Jeremy might either be capable or know someone who is capable."

"And how will we get his cooperation?" Gibbon sneered.

Hermione glared at him. "Are you a wizard or not? We remove Harry's Imperius curse and place our own."

"Oh look, the princess is advocating for using an Unforgivable," Gibbon scoffed.

Hermione ignored him as usual, but apparently, Theo hadn't gotten the memo.

"What is your problem, Gibbon? Hermione's the best person we could have helping us with this fucking impossible task. Why do you always have to drag on her?"

"Theo," Hermione said. Her voice half-warning, half asking him to drop it.

"No! I'm sick of listening to his bullshit. And you," Theo whirled to Rowle, "you don't even bother standing up for her to him!"

"Theo!" Hermione said sharper. Rowle lifted his hands in a surrender position.

"Seriously, Gibbon. I'm waiting for an answer."

Hermione groaned as Gibbon glared at both her and Theo. She did not want to know the answer to that question. She half-suspected it was jealousy, but frankly, Gibbon gave her the creeps. She hadn't forgotten that he'd essentially coerced her into murdering a Muggle that first day they had run into each other in the Forest of Dean. That was almost a year ago, and Gibbon still acted like he hated her.

"Kid, drop it," Yaxley suggested. The warning was clear in his voice.

"This is fucking ridiculous. You are all adults! You should be acting like it!" Theo insisted. "Answer me, Gibbon. What's Hermione done that has you acting like this? Acting like a fucking toddler."

"Nott, that's enough," Dolohov ordered with a frown.

"No, it's alright Antonin. I'll answer the snot-nosed brat. Granger acts like she is better than us. You see how she has Thor wrapped around her pretty little finger? What do you think she's going to do once wizarding society gets up and going again? Think she'll still be around for Thor? For any of us? We're headed straight back to Azkaban as soon as this mess is over, and she's," he pointed directly at Hermione, spittle practically flying from his mouth in his rage, "going to be the one leading the fucking charge."

Hermione was taken aback. They hadn't discussed what would happen after they defeated the Muggles, in fact, Hermione didn't want to think about it at all. There were still too many unknowns.

"You don't really think that do you?" Hermione asked, stepping closer to Gibbon. He creeped her out, but she couldn't bear the thought that he thought she would just turn them all to be imprisoned in Azkaban.

"Why the hell shouldn't I?" Gibbon crossed his arms, staring down at her with a nasty look on his face.

"Granted, I've never given you a reason to think otherwise, but if we actually do this, if we actually find a way to stop the Muggles, we'll be the ones in charge of wizarding society," Hermione said. "Who else would take charge? Sure, we think there are some pockets of wizards out there, but I'm positive there's not another group as large as us."

"Ah, we'll be the de facto leaders, eh? And where does that leave you, princess?" Gibbon sneered.

"I'm not doing this for any sort of accolades, Connor." It had been the first time that Hermione had ever used his first name and he seemed surprised by it. "I'm doing this because it's the right thing to do. And now that I know they have Harry? I want to do it to free him. If and when wizarding society is up and running again, I have no plans to campaign to send anybody in this camp back to Azkaban. We don't even know how many wizards have died in the last year. We may have reached critical mass as a population. We have no idea what's going to happen, and that alone would be enough for me to not condemn you. But you've all helped. Everyone in this tent and this camp has done something to help fight back against the Muggles. Nobody here deserves Azkaban."

Hermione was standing toe-to-toe with Gibbon by the time she was finished talking. Rowle cleared his throat, but Hermione didn't move. She wanted to know what Gibbon had to say to that. Would this finally clear the air between them? She could only hope so.

"Pretty answers for a hypothetical future."

"There is no winning with you, is there?" Hermione asked.

"And Thor? Where do you stand with him?"

"Not that it's any of your business Connor, but Finn and I won't be separating anytime soon. Or ever, if I have anything to say about it."

Gibbon gave her one last glare before turning away and addressing Dolohov. "Despite her annoyingness, I still agree with Granger."

Hermione groaned at his obstinance and moved away from him. He was impossible and was always going to be impossible.

"Fine, if we can get the fake credentials, and maybe a floorplan or two, we can work on getting Potter out," Dolohov finally agreed.

"Thank you," Hermione grinned at him happily, surprising him by wrapping her arms around him in a brief hug. He patted her back awkwardly and Hermione donned the malachite necklace as she exited the tent. She needed to go speak with Jeremy.

* * *

 _August 2003_

 _Ministry of Defense Compound_

 _Portland Bill, UK_

* * *

Rho moved swiftly through the halls of the defense compound. Things were getting tense at the compound and between her and Dudley. Dudley had become quite obsessed with Potter and Rho was worried about him. His mood was swinging wildly both at work and when they were at home. Last night she'd actually used wandless magic to keep him from hurting her. Rho didn't know if it was because of the situation with Potter or if it was something else, but regardless she felt the need to begin moving on with her life. The military really did have it all under control as long as they had Harry.

Although she was the reason they had MUTEs and madars, she wasn't about to put her life at risk for the Muggle military. She only needed to figure out how to get out safely and without Dudley.

"Rho," Dudley smiled at her beguilingly from the entrance to her lab. "I want to apologize for last night."

"We shouldn't be discussing this at work," Rho said. "Excuse me, I need to go in to see the patient."

Dudley moved aside, a frown marring his face as Rho slid around him and into the medical bay they were keeping Potter in. She surveyed all of the machines, ensuring they were working correctly, then began to take a blood draw from Potter. It was all routine work, work she did every day, but Dudley followed her.

"Why won't you tell me?" Dudley asked.

"Tell you what?"

"How you know Harry, of course. The same thing I've been asking you now for months, Rho," Dudley spat.

Rho sighed. They'd been having the same argument over and over again for months now. Rho knew that Dudley knew that she knew Potter, but she had refused to tell him how. She didn't want him to know that she was a witch. That could jeopardize her entire career or her life. She wasn't giving that information out to anyone, especially not Dudley. She'd seen the hate-filled looks he gave Potter.

"I don't know Potter. I've told you that," Rho said. She modulated her voice to make it quiet and unchallenging. The last thing she needed was for Dudley to have a blow up at her here, in the lab.

She finished with the blood draw from Potter and frowned. Potter looked weird, like—

"Stop lying!" Dudley shouted. Suddenly, he was in the room, directly in front of her. He had a grip on her wrist. "It's time to stop lying, Rho! I know you know him! I want to know how!"

Dudley pushed back her cowl, exposing Rho's face for the first time.

"You!" Potter's voice was rusty from disuse and Rho suddenly knew why Potter had looked weird. He hadn't been sedated.

"Fuck," she spat and pushed past Dudley to get to the worktop where the sedation medication was stored.

"So you do know each other," Dudley said. Now that he knew the answer, he seemed almost sad about it. Rho felt her heart break at the sound in his voice. Whatever Dudley had been, she had cared for him.

"I knew it was you! Why, though?" Potter asked. His voice was stronger and Rho's panic increased.

"Fucking Christ," Rho muttered as she shoved the sedative into Potter's IV.

"Jesus, Dudley! Potter wasn't sedated! When did that fucking happen?" Rho's hands were shaking at the implications of Potter knowing who she was. And of Dudley knowing that she and Potter knew each other.

"I didn't know he wasn't sedated!" Dudley protested. "Who authorized that?"

"I don't fucking know. But he needs to be killed. Now. Before anyone else finds out!" Rho shouted. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ What was she going to do now? Potter needed to die. Could she kill Dudley too if it came to it? Rho wasn't a fool, she'd kept her wand and used it when necessary. Like with making the MUTEs and the madars. Even now, she had it tucked up her sleeve.

"I can't _kill_ him!" Dudley said. "He's my fucking cousin, Rho."

"It's him or me, Dudley," Rho replied. She was deadly serious but hoped Dudley wouldn't push her.

"You can't kill him either!" Dudley protested. Rho sighed. She would have to keep an eye on both Potter and Dudley for the time being. She definitely couldn't leave now. _Fuck_.

* * *

 _August 2003_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

* * *

"I can work a computer," the Muggle captive told Granger. He eyed Granger and then Antonin eagerly. It was clear that the Muggle was trying to show his usefulness.

"How well?" Granger asked. They were once again in the spare tent near the caves. Antonin supervised every single visit Granger had with the captive. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, he did. He didn't really trust the captive's motives. They were asking him to work against his own people. In Antonin's experience, people like that weren't to be trusted.

"Well enough to get around. Do you have one? I could show you."

"Can you hack into something?" Antonin asked.

"Um, probably not, but my cousin Keith could."

"Would you be willing to get your cousin Keith involved in something like this?" Granger asked. "To be clear, we're asking you to hack into the British military's computer systems."

"He would for the right price," Jeremy said.

Granger sighed. "We could probably transfer the money to him after the fact."

"That would be good enough," Jeremy insisted.

"Granger, outside," Antonin ordered, holding the flap of the tent open for her.

"What are you thinking?"

"We lure the cousin here and Imperius him to work with us. After we get everything figured out, we figure out a way to pay him."

"I don't like the idea of bringing another Muggle in on this."

"Do you have another suggestion?" Granger asked. She could have been bitchy about it, but she wasn't and Antonin found that rather endearing about her.

He sighed heavily. "I don't, but don't computers need stuff? Electricity or something?"

"Electricity and an internet connection," Granger confirmed. "There used to be this old abandoned house on the edge of the forest. We could check it out?"

"You and Thor go. If it's still abandoned, get what's needed from the Muggles then ward the hell out of the place. Then we'll lure in the cousin.

* * *

 _August 2003_

 _Edge of the Forest of Dean_

 _Abandoned House_

* * *

Antonin glanced the edge of the forest. He'd been in it for so long, that even the idea of jotting across the road to where the abandoned house Granger had found was slightly terrifying. Although, he would never tell anyone that. A Muggle car sped by and Antonin took a deep breath before he loped across the street and up to the front door of the house. Twisting the door handle, he found it was opened and stepped inside. Granger and Thor had done a decent job, the place at least looked livable. There were two computers set up on a table in the middle of the front room. All of the windows had been covered and bordered. The house still looked quite abandoned from the outside.

"Are we ready?" Antonin asked. Granger and Rowle were speaking with the Muggle captive who had a small black device in his hands.

"Yes," Granger confirmed. "Jeremy will call his cousin Keith, hinting at a lucrative deal and giving him the address."

"How long until he gets here?" Antonin asked.

"He lives outside of London, so could be a couple of hours," the Muggle captive said.

"Fine, let's do it."

Four hours later and there was a tentative knock on the front door.

"Jeremy? Are you in there?" a man's voice called out. Antonin gestured for everyone to be quiet, and had his wand at the ready. He waved the Muggle captive forward to answer the door.

"Hey Keith," Jeremy said, waving his cousin inside. "Gotta get in here before anyone sees you. Where'd you park?"

"At the turn off a mile back, like you said," the other Muggle said as he walked into the house. The door shut behind him with a snap. "Who're they?" He pointed at Granger and Thor. Antonin had been hiding behind the door so he hadn't been spotted yet. This Muggle had dirty blond hair and looked like he hadn't showered in a week or shaved in a month. Antonin curled his lip at the look of him.

" _Imperio_ ," Antonin intoned, pointing his wand at the newest Muggle. His mud-brown eyes went blank and Antonin moved swiftly to stand before him. "You will do everything we ask. After the job is over, you'll get a hefty sum into your bank account and you won't remember ever working with us."

"That's creepy," Jeremy whispered as he watched the Imperius Curse take hold of Keith. "Is that what you did to me too?"

"Similar," Granger said brusquely. "Now introduce us."

"Right," Jeremy nodded and made introductions.

"Wait, so let me get this straight," Keith said several minutes later. "You want me to hack into the British military, specifically army databases?"

"Yes," Granger confirmed. "Can you do it?"

Keith grinned at her. "I've already done it, babe." Thor frowned at the moniker.

"What does that mean?" Granger asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I've hacked into the British army databases already. Left myself a backdoor. They don't even know I was ever in there."

"Well, your job just got a whole lot easier then, didn't it?" Granger grinned at him.

"It sure did, babe."

* * *

 _August 2003_

 _Forest of Dean_

 _Death Eater Encampment_

* * *

Antonin returned to his tent later that night with his mind on the thousand things it took to keep the camp running and the men mostly happy. He called a council with Connor to discuss the old villages.

"Where are Thor and Granger?" Connor asked once they were both settled in Antonin's tent with a bit of Muggle whiskey.

"Staying in the abandoned house with the Muggles. Nott and Talen are there as well."

"Ah, so not quite the fuck-haven that their tent is," Connor smirked nastily.

Antonin sighed and rubbed his temple. He was mightily sick of Connor and his attitude toward Granger.

"You need to get over it," Antonin said.

"Over what?"

"Granger! Stop being a fucking git to her. She's done more than enough to earn her place among us."

Connor's jaw clenched and Antonin wondered for a moment if Connor would hex him.

"I don't know if I can," he finally said. Connor's voice was small and tight. Antonin narrowed his eyes at him.

"And why not?"

"Because it should have been me!" Connor said. "It should have been me that she fell in love with. That she was fucking. But no, she chose _him_. And I can't even hate him! He's been like a brother to me."

"Connor," Antonin said. He felt for his friend, unrequited feelings were difficult to navigate, but for Merlin's sake, he was an adult, not a ruddy teenager. "I'm sorry your feelings were hurt, but she likely has no idea the way you feel about her. I doubt even Thor knows."

"He knows," Connor replied. His mouth was in a tight line.

Antonin sighed again. This was the part of leading people he hated. He could make decisions and delegate all day long, but this emotional shit he was terrible at.

"I don't know what else to tell you, but to get over it," Antonin said.

"It'll be better when this is all over and I don't have to see either of them."

"Right." Antonin nodded. "I meant to ask you about the old villages. Have you found anything?"

"There are definitely people living in some of them," Connor said looking relieved at the change in subject. "We could tell by the trace amounts of magic, but they are staying firmly behind closed doors. We didn't attempt to enter any of the houses, obviously. Likely, they didn't trust the gang of Death Eaters," Connor fairly spat the words, "who showed up in their town."

This time, Antonin's sigh was one of relief. "I'm actually pleased to hear that news. Obviously, we have trust issues, but if there are wizarding folk hiding in the old villages it means there are probably witches there. It means—"

"Granger isn't the only one," Connor breathed. "I…" He shook his head.

"I too am relieved that Granger isn't the only witch. Let's hope that remains true. Keep an eye on the old villages. We'll figure out what to do with them once this mess with the Muggles is cleaned up."

* * *

 _August 2003_

 _Edge of the Forest of Dean_

 _Abandoned House_

* * *

"I don't like the way he looks at you," Rowle whispered once they were in the room they had claimed for their own. They couldn't put up Silencing charms, for fear that they wouldn't hear the other occupants in the house.

They had decided to keep both Muggles in the rundown house, rather than trek each day through the forest to the camp. Which meant that Hermione and Rowle were also bunkering down in the abandoned house. Antonin had gone back to camp, but Theo and Yaxley were sent back to the house as extra security.

"Finn, he's a Muggle. If flirting with him gets us what we need…" Hermione trailed off, hoping that Rowle would catch on.

"I understand the concept, Hermione," Rowle spat. "It doesn't mean I _like_ it."

"You think I do?" Hermione asked. "He's a spotty, overconfident git, but I'm looking at the bigger picture here."

"Right," Rowle sighed heavily. "Which is to get your long-time do-gooder, Auror friend out of their custody."

"Finn," Hermione practically growled. "We've been over this, Harry isn't as do-gooder as you seem to think he is. Just because he killed Voldemort, does not mean that he sees the world in black and white. Besides, he'll see you there, risking your life to rescue him and he won't forget that. And, if I know Harry—which I do—he'll want to stay out of whatever politics of the post-Muggle war situation there are. I promise you that."

"Right." Rowle didn't look convinced and Hermione knew she wasn't going to be able to convince him until he'd actually met Harry.

"Come here," Hermione said as she laid back on the bed. Rowle joined her, laying his head on her chest as she wrapped her arms around him and slid her fingers through his hair. Rowle did such a good job of comforting Hermione that she had to remind herself to comfort him as well. After having kept herself closed off from him emotionally for so long, she found she had to continue to remind herself to open up to Rowle. To offer him everything he was offering her in return.

When Rowle fell asleep a few moments later, Hermione wiped at the tear that leaked out of her eyes. Her feelings for him were only growing and she hoped that whatever happened over the next few weeks that both of them would come out of this conflict alive.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Merlin, it's been ages, I'm so sorry about that! This is definitely not abandoned, but I did take a bit of a break from this story.** **I do have happy news that this story ends in 2 chapters! I have chapter 11 partially written! My hope is that I'll have this story completely finished by its first birthday. We'll see if I can stick to that goal. Thank you, kind readers, for sticking with me on this journey!**

 **My only beta is Grammarly; all other mistakes are mine.** **If you liked this chapter (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! You can find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or Facebook at Shan Crochetaway.**

* * *

 _August 2003_

 _Edge of the Forest of Dean_

 _Abandoned House_

* * *

There was a back bedroom on the first floor of the abandoned house they had taken over that Hermione had commandeered as a potions workshop. It wasn't perfect, but it was good enough. The hardest part had been coming by ingredients and supplies. They'd had to raid Hogwarts and Hogsmeade to find everything they needed and they were still short on a few items that Hermione really would have liked to have. But Diagon Alley was too risky, she was sure there was still a presence by the Muggle military there. They would have to make do and if necessary, head out to the Forbidden Forest to scavenge for ingredients.

She stirred one cauldron while she kept an eye on another. She was hoping this iteration of the potion she was attempting to create would work. The idea that they wouldn't get around the ray-guns bothered her a lot, but she thought that if they dampened their magic, then they could at least sneak around the military base disguised as Muggles. She added a few powdered ashwinder eggs to the third cauldron she had set up. She needed both a potion to dampen their magic and a potion that would act as an antidote to the first. It was a complicated process, made more so that it was difficult to test. She really needed to get her hands on a madar machine in order to know for sure whether the potion worked or not.

Even if she found a way to dampen their magic if they were still giving off a magical signal, something that the Muggle's instruments would pick up on, then it would be useless. But she knew that radar systems were rather large, she could only assume that the madar system too was probably too large for them to get a hold of, but she'd told Dolohov to be on the lookout for them.

"Is this one going to work, you think?" Rowle asked. He was leaning against the doorway and Hermione smiled at him. She didn't know what she would have done this last year without him. As infuriating as she had found him in the beginning, now she couldn't imagine being without him.

"I hope so. Are you volunteering to be the guinea pig?"

"What's a guinea pig?" Rowle asked, wrinkling his brow.

Hermione laughed. "It's a Muggle thing. They are animals that Muggles often use to test things on, medicines and the like."

"That's barbaric," Rowle grunted.

"It is," Hermione agreed with a laugh. "But sometimes things have to be tested on something before given to a human. Anyway, are you volunteering to see if this one works?" she asked.

"What if it does, but the antidote you've brewed doesn't?" Rowle asked. He didn't sound nervous or scared, but Hermione was sure he was. She was nervous to test on herself too. The idea of being without magic entirely was frightening.

"Well, like most potions, they have a half-life in the body. If Theo and I have done the calculations correctly, this one should wear off after six hours or so."

"So it's not permanent?" Rowle asked.

Hermione shook her head. "Think of it like Polyjuice. You drink it and become someone else for an hour, but if you don't keep dosing yourself, you'll turn back into yourself."

"Any idea of permanent damage to someone's magical core?"

"It shouldn't, nothing in here is potent enough for that. I'm not a potions master though, so everything I've done so far has been a guess," Hermione shrugged. "It's okay if you aren't comfortable, we can test it on someone else."

"No, I trust you, just trying to get all the information."

"Thanks," Hermione smiled at him. "If something goes wrong, I promise I will do everything in my power to fix it as soon as possible."

"I know you will, little witch," Rowle grinned at her. "When will it be ready?"

"In a couple of hours. I want to make sure the antidote is done before we begin testing it."

Rowle crossed the room and gave her a kiss on the head before heading back out. Hermione smiled to herself as she looked back at her directions.

A few hours later, Hermione had both the magic dampening potion and its antidote ready. The magic dampening potion was a brilliant purple and had what looked like glitter sparkles inside of it. Hermione thought it was beautiful. So it was ironic that the antidote was a dull brown sludge. Hopefully, they worked. This was her thirteenth round of testing and they'd had a rather mixed bag of results from each previous iteration. She'd tested most of the early ones herself, but she was starting to worry that the potions hadn't had enough time to clear her system before she had another one ready.

"Alright, let's try it out," Hermione said, coming into the sitting room. It looked less like a sitting room and more like a server room. Not that Hermione had much experience in server rooms, but computers, cables, and server racks littered the space. Keith was jamming out at his computer with a pair of oversized headphones over his head as he banged away at the keyboard before him. Hermione could only hope he was having some success.

Rowle had been frowning at something Jeremy was saying and turned abruptly from the Muggle to stride over to where Hermione stood.

"Theo!" Hermione called, and he and Yaxley exited the kitchen. "Alright, iteration thirteen. Rowle's taking it. Someone have the ray-gun?"

"Right here," Yaxley said, waving it over his head.

"Watch where you point that thing," Theo said, ducking slightly.

"Ok, take this one first," Hermione handed the pretty purple potion to Rowle. "Then we'll try wandless magic first, then with a wand, then we'll hit you with the ray-gun, alright?"

Rowle nodded. He quirked a smile at Hermione and gulped the potion down. He shuddered and Hermione eyed him with concern for a moment.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked.

"Alright, something's a little off though. Like I'm missing or have forgotten something."

"That might be a good sign. Alright, try something simple, something you know you can do wandlessly."

Rowle snapped his fingers but nothing happened.

"That usually gets me a bluebell flame," Rowle said.

"Okay, that is a good sign," Hermione made some notes on the notebook in her hands and handed Rowle his wand.

"Try something else with the wand this time."

" _Accio_ teacup," Rowle said flicking the wand. Nothing happened.

"Ok, that's really good news," Hermione said with a grin. "Keep trying other things, simple things see if anything will work."

They tested for another thirty minutes or so, but nothing Rowle tried worked.

"Okay, let's hit him with the ray-gun and see what happens," Hermione said.

"Gladly," Yaxley grinned. Rowle scowled at him and Hermione found herself smiling softly at their antics.

"What's the point of hitting him with the ray-gun when he's already on the magic-dampening potion?" Jeremy asked.

"The ray-gun produces remarkably similar effects to the potion," Hermione explained. "A feeling of missing something, and the obvious, not being able to use magic. I want to see if hitting him with the ray-gun affects how the potion works. So today we'll hit him with the ray-gun, have him take the antidote and see what happens. If we get to the facility and are discovered as wizards, likely they'll use the ray-gun on us, so we want to make sure that doubling the ray-gun and the potion doesn't change how potent the antidote needs to be."

"Do it," Rowle said.

Yaxley pressed the trigger on the ray-gun. Nothing happened, but that was normal. That was the worst part about the ray-guns, they didn't produce any sort of light or anything to tell you whether they worked.

Rowle grunted.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked immediately, her notebook at the ready.

"The feeling of missing something increased," Rowle said. Hermione began scribbling frantically in her notebook.

"That must mean his magical core is doubly suppressed, right?" Theo asked.

"I think so," Hermione mused, tapping her pen against the notebook. "I wish I knew a healing diagnostic for that. I know there are spells that can show you someone's magical core, but I've never had a chance to learn one."

"Perhaps we can find a book somewhere?" Theo suggested. "Someone has to have some books on healing, right?"

"That's a good idea," Yaxley said, dropping the hand holding the ray-gun to the side. "When we looked for the ley line books, there were still quite a few estates intact, we could raid some of them."

"Yes, why don't you and Theo do that?" Rowle said. "Hermione can continue working on the potions then."

"Feeling vulnerable without your magic?" Yaxley snorted.

"Shut up." Rowle glared at Yaxley.

"Alright, let's give it another twenty minutes and we'll try the magic tests again," Hermione said. "Then if they still don't work, we'll give you the antidote and see if we can get your magic back."

She turned to Yaxley and Theo. "You two should head back to camp and tell Dolohov what's going on. The sooner we get a diagnostic spell, the better these trials will go. Ideally, I'd like to be ready to infiltrate the military base within a month."

"Yes, ma'am," Theo said, saluting her sharply. Hermione rolled her eyes at him as he and Yaxley left the house to Apparate back to camp. They had to be careful to not use too much magic near the computer equipment. It was delicate and they'd already fried one server with too much magic use. Hermione took a deep breath and set a timer for Rowle. Now they just needed to wait and see if one dose of the antidote would work. If not, there wasn't anything in it dangerous enough to overdose Rowle, so a second dose could be given. Hopefully, it wouldn't require more than two doses.

* * *

 _August 2003_

 _Edge of the Forest of Dean_

 _Abandoned House_

* * *

A week later, found the core leadership at the abandoned house they had taken over for their use. Dolohov and Gibbon showed up to discuss strategy for infiltration of the military base. Theo and Yaxley had been successful in finding several medical tests that made the testing of the magical dampening potion as well as its antidote a breeze.

"Where exactly is this place located?" Dolohov asked, studying the map that Keith had projected onto a blank wall.

"Here, Isle of Portland, specifically Portland Bill," Keith said, pointing to an island off the coast of the Dorset coast. He did something on his computer, that zoomed in on the map, showing a small cluster of greyed-out buildings on the western side of the island near the tip. "It's connected by a road, so not totally cut off from the rest of the island. There's also a fairly large population on the island itself."

"So the base doesn't take up the entire island, for some reason I thought it would," Hermione mused.

"It also means, we can blend into the rest of the population to get onto the island. The island itself isn't restricted access," Jeremy said.

"Correct, and the place where the base is located is fairly close to some touristy areas. So it'll be very easy for us to blend in," Keith added, zooming out to show a spot that indicated a lighthouse and a restaurant.

"There's no 'us,'" Hermione told him. "You and Jeremy will be staying here."

"No, they need to come. At least Jeremy does," Dolohov said. "We need him to get us around the facility."

"It'll look suspicious when he's been gone for months!" Hermione shouted, throwing her arms up in the air. "And they can't defend themselves."

"Well, technically, neither can we," Theo pointed out. "We're going in with no magic, and we won't have access to Muggle weapons until we take some off of the Muggles we disable."

"I don't like it," Hermione grumbled, leaning back into her chair. They were scattered throughout the kitchen, as the living space was too full of equipment for the number of people in attendance.

"You don't have to like it," Gibbon snapped. "Just deal with it."

Hermione glared at him but kept her mouth shut. There was no reason to antagonize Gibbon needlessly. He was always going to be an arse and Hermione decided she would just learn to live with it.

"Are we good with the Muggle identification?" Dolohov asked.

"Yep," Keith said flopping several plastic cards onto the table. There were three for each of them, two for the military base and a third with age verification cards. All had fake names, which Hermione had insisted on. She was still listed in Muggle databases, the last thing she needed was to be showing identification with her real name on it.

"And these will get us into the base? We need to be able to get into wherever they are keeping Harry," Hermione asked.

"Yes," Jeremy confirmed. He pulled out two more cards, these were worn looking and had old pictures of Jeremy on them, clearly a few years out of date.

"Those won't actually work, will they?" Hermione asked. "I have to assume after you disappeared they would have dismantled your access."

"They did, babe," Keith confirmed. "But I got it back for him." He gave her a quick grin which Hermione nodded at but didn't respond. She could practically feel Rowle bristling across the room at the endearment.

"I think the Muggles stay here," Rowle said. Hermione didn't disagree with him, it felt like a liability to bring them along, but she was quite sure that the only reason he didn't want the Muggles along was because he didn't want Keith around her. His protectiveness was cute and annoying at the same time.

"Not going to happen," Dolohov said. "The Muggles come with us."

"We're literally right here," Keith huffed. Jeremy hit his cousin's arm with the back of his hand to silence him.

"What we need is a game plan," Dolohov said. "We have the false identification, we need to study the maps and figure out the fastest way to get to where Potter is being kept and get back out."

"Which is why you need _us_ to come with you," Keith said, grinning at Hermione.

"Technically, we only need Jeremy," Rowle replied with a growl.

"And leave behind a liability, Thor? No, both Muggles come with us," Dolohov said with some finality. "You got a look at some floor plans, right?"

"Yep! I hacked into the maintenance department head's computers. Idiot used 'password' for his password," Keith chortled. "Anyway, here you go." He fiddled with his computer and the picture on the wall changed to show an elaborate floor plan. The building was a warren of corridors and Hermione squinted trying to make sense of it all.

Jeremy stood and began pointing at various spots on the wall, showing them entries as well as routes around the buildings and where checkpoints were located. Hermione's hand flew over her notebook as she took notes on everything. She was starting to get both nervous and excited, a feeling she hadn't felt properly since her Hogwarts days when she, Harry, and Ron were planning their assorted adventures.

* * *

 _August 2003_

 _Edge of the Forest of Dean_

 _Abandoned House_

* * *

"Going to have to be quiet," Rowle whispered into Hermione's ear as his hand slid down her stomach, heading for her core. They were lying in their shared bed, the house had just turned in for the night and it had been at least a week since they'd had time to be intimate together.

"Sure we can't throw up a silencing charm for a few minutes?" Hermione groaned as Rowle's fingers made contact with her nether lips. She was already wet and Rowle hissed when he realized, his hips flexing behind her. His cock was like steel as it pressed between the cheeks of her bum.

"And miss you trying to keep your whimpers to yourself?" Rowle chuckled. "Not a fucking chance, little witch."

Rowle's other arm was under her neck and just the right angle to begin pulling on one of her nipples through her nightshirt.

"Take this off," Rowle muttered, pulling at the shirt. Hermione shifted, lifting the shirt over her head and kicking her knickers off at the same time before settling back into Rowle's arms, her back to his chest. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and Hermione sighed. She lifted her leg to place it over Rowle's hips, opening herself up to him completely. He delved his fingers through the short curls at her core, before slipping one inside her.

"Finn," Hermione moaned, arching her back.

"Quiet, little witch," Finn murmured into her shoulder. The hand that was twisting her nipples stretched and he managed to get a finger on each nipple just as he slid two fingers inside her and the base of his palm ground against her clit.

"Fuck," Hermione panted. She was writhing in his arms and unable to reach more than his hip with one of her hands.

"Oh, don't worry, we will," Rowle said against the side of her neck. His breath was hot and Hermione whined deep in her throat. Rowle's hand left her core and he aligned himself before sinking into her. The head of his cock hit the front wall of her channel from this position and Hermione groaned low and deep.

"May have to bite the pillow, love," Rowle chuckled as he began a slow and steady rhythm. He kept one hand pressed to the center of her stomach, while the other plucked at her nipples. Hermione turned her head, biting the pillow to muffle the groans as he hit her sensitive spot over and over again. The hand on her stomach slid down and he tapped her clit a few times and she was screaming into the pillow as she came.

Rowle wasn't far behind, grunting as his hips snapped and he lost all semblance of a rhythm.

They both lay panting for several long moments before Rowle slipped from her and pulled her close again.

"Love you," Rowle murmured into the top of her head before his breaths became long and steady. Hermione's chest warmed at the admission and she smiled as she turned to face him and settled deeper into his embrace.

"Love you too," she murmured, pressing a kiss chest. His arms tightened around her briefly and they both fell asleep.

* * *

 _September 2003_

 _Ministry of Defense Compound_

 _Portland Bill, UK_

* * *

Dudley watched Harry from the observation room. After the last disaster where they had discovered Harry hadn't been sedated, Dudley doubled and triple checked to be sure that he was kept sedated at all times. But even under sedation, Harry was agitated. He moaned and writhed in the bed as if in pain.

"Can they become used to sedation? Immune to it?" Dudley asked the nurse in charge.

"It's possible. Should we switch him to a different drug?" the nurse asked. She was an older, no-nonsense woman that Dudley had always liked.

"Not yet," Dudley said. "Let's keep an eye on him."

He left the observation room and headed back to his office. This whole operation was becoming a mess. The large group of wizards in the Forest of Dean seem to have disappeared completely. The magic was still there, but no matter how many times Dudley or his underlings went to the spot where the madar showed the group to be, it was completely empty. Had they moved underground somehow? Dudley didn't think so, but who knew what was possible with magic? He'd have to get some ground penetrating radar out there soon. Maybe they could reconfigure the madar to be ground penetrating? It would be something he'd love to ask Rho about, but Rho wasn't talking to him.

She'd moved out of their apartment and the whole she left behind in Dudley's life seemed chasmic. He wasn't sure he'd ever recover and seeing her every day at work was becoming so hard that Dudley found himself avoiding the labs whenever possible. He called her boss in to discuss items, but never her.

The worst of it was, that their relationship had been known well within the department. So forever he was walking into rooms where the whispering stopped and he knew they were talking about him and Rho. Or he was on the receiving end of sorrowful glances. Or worse, gleeful ones.

Dudley dropped his head to his hands and scrubbed his eyes with his palms for a moment. He needed to clear his head. He needed to think clearly about Rho, about Harry, about the wizarding problem in general. But nothing he did was working. He'd taken a long walk the day before and had stewed about Rho the entire time. He had drunk gallons of tea since their breakup and got nothing for it but a hundred trips to the loo.

Perhaps talking to Harry would lead to a solution? Maybe he'd even be able to convince Harry into telling him how he knew Rho. Decided, Dudley moved swiftly to the compound. The nurse in charge of Harry was still in the observation room.

"How's he doing?" Dudley asked, peering at Harry through the window. He looked agitated.

"He's out, but not resting well. I think we need to try another sedative. One he hasn't grown accustomed to," the nurse said.

"Let's wake him up first. Then I want you to take a break. A long one," Dudley commanded. He didn't want anyone else around for this visit with Harry.

The nurse gave him a strange look, but Dudley ignored her as he pulled open the door to Harry's room. He had some questions for his cousin and he was hoping he'd get all the answers he needed.

It took Harry about fifteen minutes to break through the surface after the nurse had given him a counter-sedative. Dudley was patient as he watched his cousin thrash on the bed. He was glad they had thought to restrain him more securely after they realized that Harry had been unsedated for a period of time.

"Why are you doing this?" was the first thing out of Harry's mouth.

Dudley rolled his eyes and prepared him a glass of water, bending the straw so he could drink. Harry drank but glared at him the entire time.

"It's not like I started it, Harry," Dudley sighed. "Wizarding structures appeared on their own. The British military didn't have anything to do with it."

"But you're helping them. You're persecuting wizards. Killing them. Experimenting on them."

"Humans don't like that which they don't understand. It's not an uncommon story in history," Dudley said.

Harry looked thoughtful for a long moment. "You're different."

Dudley snorted. "Not having Dad around has helped. Leaving Mum to do her thing has contributed as well."

"And the girl," Harry stated. "She's helped too."

"She used to," Dudley admitted. "Not anymore."

"Had a falling out?" It was Harry's turn to snort.

"Something like that," Dudley said, glaring at his cousin. Harry's glasses had long since disappeared and Dudley wasn't sure he could recall the last time he could see Harry's eyes so clearly. Not since they were very young children.

"I was sorry to learn that Uncle Vernon passed," Harry said.

"Don't lie. You weren't sorry. It's why you didn't come to the funeral." Dudley moved away from the bed to gaze into the mirror that hid the observation room. Turning back around, Dudley glared at the readings that the monitor that showed magical output was giving. It was low. Lower than it had ever been.

"Can you run out of magic?" Dudley asked.

"Anything is possible," Harry replied. "How long have I been hooked up to this machine?"

"Almost a year."

"Merlin, Dudley." Harry coughed and shook his head. "What did I do to you to deserve this?"

"Be glad that you didn't die like your red-headed friend. Wesley was it?" Dudley sneered unkindly at him.

"I never knew you to be so fucking cruel," Harry whispered. "Her, yes. She'd always been cruel. Is that what happened to you? You let her cruelty infect you?"

"You don't know anything," Dudley spat. He left the room and called for the nurse to give him another sedative. Talking to Harry had been unproductive and left Dudley angrier. He should find Rho, have a proper argument with her, maybe they could have some hate-sex and Dudley could be numb for a bit.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Gah, again, apologies for the super late update. And good news, after this chapter, there's only one more left, and I finished writing it last night! So it'll be up next week, before May, as I want to get this story completed before it's first birthday on May 4th, haha.**

 **Thank you, kind readers, for sticking with me on this journey!**

 **My only beta is Grammarly; all other mistakes are mine.** **If you liked this chapter (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! You can find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or Facebook at Shan Crochetaway.**

* * *

 _September 2003_

 _Ministry of Defense Compound_

 _Portland Bill, UK_

* * *

Getting to Portland Bill had been surprisingly easy. Antonin had assumed they would travel there by Muggle means, he'd been prepared for it actually, but Granger suggested they Apparate; it was quicker, but it did leave the possibility of getting stranded if they were hit with the ray-gun. Granger had made each person carry as many antidotes to the magic-dampening potion as they could. They had quickly found out that the antidote also worked if a wizard was just hit with the ray-gun. As long as they could get to the antidote, they would have enough time to Apparate out. That was the plan anyway. Although, Antonin had ensured that the Muggles both knew how to drive a vehicle in case they did become truly stranded.

Once on the island, Antonin took a look around. It was still green yet, and the air smelled of the sea. They had landed a couple of hundred yards from the entrance to the military base. As they approached, a few flicks of Granger's wand and the camera's aimed at guarding the base were redirected. Not for the first time, Antonin was pleased they'd run into Granger. There was no way they could have done all that they had in the last year without her. He and the rest of the Death Eaters would still be hunkering in the Forest of Dean, killing any of the Muggles they came across.

In no time, they reached the gates, and Antonin's heart beat hard for a few moments, but he needn't have worried. The credentials the Muggles had come up with worked perfectly.

It all seemed to be going too perfectly, and Antonin was on edge, waiting for disaster to strike. In his experience as a Death Eater, missions never went this well. And if they did, it was only right before the bottom fell out.

The compound they were on had many buildings, but Jeremy led them to one of the first ones. It didn't look large enough to hold the lab of the size they had discussed, but the moment they were all inside the building, Jeremy led them through a pair of locked double-doors and immediately they went down an elevator.

"It's just one story down," Jeremy said. "But most Muggles think this place is to study electromagnetism."

Antonin had no idea what electro-whats-it was, but Granger nodded like she understood. A glance around at the rest of the Death Eaters at least told him he wasn't the only one who had no idea what they were discussing.

They walked what felt like miles of bland corridors before Jeremy spoke up again.

"Lab's through here," he whispered, gesturing to double-doors that looked like every other pair of double-doors they had passed and were behind yet another locking mechanism. Antonin glanced around the dull taupe hallways, still not seeing anyone who wasn't with their group. It was eerie. It was like the base was empty, and he suddenly was concerned that they wouldn't find anybody in the lab, let alone Harry Potter who they were attempting to rescue.

The thought of Antonin attempting a rescue of Harry Potter even just a few months ago would be laughable, but here he was. He couldn't deny that Granger was right about it being the best way to begin to bring the rest of the wizarding world together, but it was still bizarre to realize that someone he had hunted several years earlier, he was now intent on saving.

* * *

 _September 2003_

 _Ministry of Defense Compound_

 _Portland Bill, UK_

* * *

Harry couldn't figure Dudley out. He could understand if Dudley hated him. He could even understand Dudley using Harry to further his own ends. No, what Harry didn't understand was why Dudley seemingly kept torturing himself by waking Harry up, just to argue with him. Perhaps, that was it? Dudley was self-flagellating himself over the torture of his cousin. But even that explanation didn't quite sit right with Harry.

Despite not being sedated, Harry was still restrained to the hospital bed he'd been living in for nigh on a year. Merlin, he still couldn't believe it had been a year. He'd spent most of it asleep. He was sure his muscles had atrophied terribly. While the Muggles were keeping him alive, they weren't giving him physical therapy. At least, Harry didn't think they were, but what did he know? He was asleep most of the time. The room was drab, and the machines beeped and hissed annoyingly.

"Tell me why," Harry asked for what had to have been the fifth time that day alone. More and more often, Dudley was keeping Harry unsedated. Perhaps the wizarding community was getting better at hiding? Harry would have given his left arm to find out what was going on in the wizarding world. The orderly he had Imperiused hadn't returned, so Harry could only hope that he'd found his way to Hermione. Merlin, what Harry would give to see Hermione. To see any familiar face, really.

"You know why. Don't play dumb," Dudley replied scornfully.

"Then tell me how you hooked up with her? I went to school with her, you know. Whatever she's told you, it's a lie. She's a witch." Dudley shook his head though, clearly not believing Harry, or not wanting to believe Harry. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring down at Harry.

"Dudley, she is. I promise you, I went to school with her for six years, she's a witch. You have to ask yourself, why she has abandoned her people to help Muggles. She abhors Muggles, at least she did when we were in school."

"She loved me though," Dudley insisted sullenly, looking away.

"Perhaps. She has changed in some ways," Harry conceded. "But her motivations must still be suspect."

Harry was about to go on, but the door to the room burst open, and Pansy Parkinson stepped inside.

"You can't listen to a word he is saying, Dudley," Pansy hissed. "You know he is a liar, he always has been. Didn't you tell me he was?"

Dudley laughed ruefully. "I also told you he was my foster brother, not my cousin. That makes me a liar to, Rho. Or is it Pansy? I can't keep it straight."

Pansy glared at Harry, pointing her finger at him. "This is all your fault! My life was finally mine again, finally together until _you_ came along and ruined it! Again!"

"Again?" Dudley asked Harry. "What does she mean by that?"

"She means that while I and everyone else in the wizarding world was attempting to take down an evil Dark Lord, she wanted to give me up to him. And because she suggested it loudly and in front of several hundred witnesses, she was than skewered in the press after I defeated said evil Dark Lord," Harry replied drolly.

Dudley scoffed. "Of course, you defeated an evil Dark Lord. Perfect Potter always doing the right things."

Scowling, Harry didn't respond to Dudley. It seemed unfair to Harry that after his abusive childhood at the hands of Dudley's parents and Dudley himself, Dudley still resented Harry for being a wizard.

"You shouldn't be in here, Rho," Dudley muttered angrily to Pansy.

"It's Pansy," Harry said. "Don't keep calling her that ridiculous name. What does Rho even mean anyway?"

"Merlin, you're an idiot," Pansy hissed. "It's the seventeenth letter of the Greek alphabet and looks like the letter 'P.' It isn't rocket science."

"Why are you such a bitch?" Harry asked, glaring at her. "I keep asking Dudley why, and it's clear I should be asking _you_. Why are you helping the Muggles destroy your own people?"

" _My_ people are dead, Harry Potter. My parents are dead. Killed in your war by your Order friends. I was a laughingstock in the wizarding community. I couldn't get a flat, couldn't get a job, and Merlin knew I needed a fucking job since the Ministry confiscated every knut my family had ever owned!" Pansy was breathing heavily by the time she was finished, and Harry noted the wand that had appeared in her hand.

"What are you doing with that?" Dudley said, visibly recoiling from the wand that Pansy was holding. "You told me you broke it. That you didn't want to be a witch any more!"

"What I wanted was some Salazar-damned respect!" Pansy roared, pointing her wand at both Dudley and Harry. Harry had no way to defend himself; he was tied to the bed, a complete sitting Diricawl. Pansy flicked her wand, and a sickly yellow light flew out of it at Dudley, he went down with a thump and Harry flinched when the wand turned to him.

"Do it," Harry said. "You've wanted to for years. Now is your chance."

Harry recognized the red of a Stupefy as it exited Pansy's wand and wondered what she used on Dudley and why she was only Stupefying him when everything went black.

* * *

 _September 2003_

 _Ministry of Defense Compound_

 _Portland Bill, UK_

* * *

Jeremy swiped one of his identification cards at the entrance to the lab and Antonin found himself holding his breath until the mechanism at the door beeped after a long moment. Opening the door, Jeremy gestured for the rest of them to proceed him into the lab itself.

The lab was not what Antonin expected. He thought it would be something similar to a potions lab, but there was strange equipment everywhere that he had no context for and couldn't even begin to describe except that it was mostly shiny and mostly made of metal. Various machines were beeping, and some were spitting out small bits of paper, but Antonin couldn't make heads or tails of any of it.

It was quite a bit larger than he had expected and he could see what he recognized as computers dotting the space, but everything else was completely foreign.

"Come on," Jeremy urged, ushering them through a side door. Antonin looked around the vast, empty lab with a bad feeling in his gut. Something about this entire situation didn't sit right. This place was too empty. Where was everyone?

"Oh my god!" Granger shouted and began running to the other side of the lab.

"Wait!" Jeremy called, but it was too late, Granger had opened the door and disappeared, Thor was quickly following her.

"Shit, what's going on," Antonin asked Jeremy.

"That's where the captive is, Potter, but we need to clear the lab first, or we could get trapped here."

"Fine, Talen and Connor go with Jeremy to clear the rest of the lab. Theo, Keith, with me," Antonin ordered as he took off to the opposite end of the lab and the door Granger and Thor had disappeared behind. He hoped to Merlin, Circe, and Nimue they weren't walking into a bloody ambush.

It took Antonin a few tries to swipe the correct identification card through the card reader, but the door wasn't opening.

"I'll do it," Keith muttered, shouldering his way forward and Antonin gladly handed him the card.

Keith had them through the door in a moment, and Antonin quickly assessed the situation beyond. They were in a hospital room. There was a man slumped on the floor, and Potter was in bed, clearly stunned. Granger was shouting at someone that Antonin thought he vaguely recognized.

"What did you do to him, you cow?" Granger pointed her wand at the other woman, who pulled a ray-gun out of somewhere and pointed it at Granger. "Planning to take away your own magic as well?" Granger sneered.

"Listen, I don't know how you found this place, but you need to leave. One call and I'll have this place swarming with Muggles," the woman scowled angrily at Hermione.

" _Stupefy_ ," Thor muttered, pointing his wand at the other woman. She collapsed in a heap. "Should have done that three minutes ago."

" _Rennervate_ ," Granger pointed her wand at Potter who woke up instantly. Before Granger and Potter could have their reunion though, the door to the room burst open and a bevy of soldiers burst into the room, pointing ray-guns at them all.

"Shit, cover me," Antonin yanked Keith in front of him and downed one of his antidotes. The moment he felt it take effect, he Stunned one of the soldiers. Thor was going about it the old fashioned way and had knocked two of them out with his fists. Granger was busy undoing the restraints that kept Potter tied to the bed.

"Theo, any way to see how many more are coming?" Antonin asked. Getting stuck in this interior room would be a death sentence.

"No clue, but the moment we have Potter, we should go," Theo replied, peering through a crack in the door.

"Check the mirror," Potter said. "Put your hands up to it and see if anyone is on the other side."

Theo did that and shook his head. "Nobody."

"Let's go," Antonin replied, leading everyone out and back through the lab.

* * *

 _September 2003_

 _Ministry of Defense Compound_

 _Portland Bill, UK_

* * *

The relief that swept through Hermione at seeing Harry for the first time in over a year almost brought her to her knees. Somehow, the idea that Pansy Parkinson was the inside witch for the Muggle military, didn't surprise her. Or, well it did, but only for a moment. Pansy was always the type to land on her feet. She was also the type to betray anyone to get ahead.

"Hermione, what are you doing with all these Death Eaters?" Harry mumbled as they stumbled their way through the lab. Hermione didn't know what half the items in the lab even did.

"It's a long story," Hermione said, supporting Harry. "But suffice it to say that they protected me when they didn't have to, and—"

"And what?" Harry grunted as Rowle looked back at them.

"Alright?" Rowle asked, sidling up alongside Hermione.

"Yeah," Hermione replied smiling at him and giving his hand a quick squeeze. But letting go of Harry was a mistake as he sagged badly against her side. "Fuck," Hermione muttered, trying to haul Harry back to standing.

Rowle moved quickly to Harry's other side to help support him. Hermione smiled gratefully at him.

"I'm alright, mate," Harry said tightly, trying to pull away from Rowle.

"Stop it," Hermione hissed to Harry. "Rowle is helping you, and you need it, and I can't actually carry you out of here on my back. So stop it and let him help you," Hermione scolded. It was so easy for her to slip back into scolding Harry and Ron that she'd done it almost unconsciously. On some level, it felt really good, on another though, it felt entirely bizarre, like that wasn't her life anymore and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

More Muggle soldiers began pouring into the lab while Hermione had been woolgathering.

"Fuck, where did they come from?" Dolohov shouted as he flipped up a table for some protection. Hermione was hit with the beam of a ray-gun and the feeling of losing her magic almost flattened her. She slipped and fell, losing her grip on Harry who would have fallen on top of her if Rowle hadn't caught him.

"Fuck," Rowle muttered, shoving Harry into a sitting position and coming to help pull Hermione behind a table just as a bullet ricocheted off the top.

"This is bad," Hermione said. "Bullets will kill us without Shield charms! We need to do something."

"Let me think," Dolohov muttered.

"No, fucking time," Harry grunted as more bullets ricocheted off the steel table, they were hiding behind. They were all flinching each time a shot hit the table. Hermione had no idea how long a steel table would hold up to such a barrage.

"At least this is destroying their lab," Yaxley offered.

Hermione rolled her eyes and downed an antidote potion and shot off a Stunner as quick as she could. Almost immediately, she was hit with a ray-gun again. They weren't going to be able to get out of this.

"Do the ray-guns work through interference?" Gibbon asked suddenly.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Will they work if I hide behind this huge steel table?"

"I have no idea."

"I have an idea," Gibbon said, smiling nastily. He downed a potion and tossed an entire lab setup that had been facing them across the room and into the soldiers.

"Dive!" Hermione heard one of the soldiers shout before the table and everything on its top crashed into them. The noise wasn't quite deafening, but the clanking of metal against metal and the breaking of glass was very loud. She poked her head up quickly to see that most of the soldiers were down before Rowle yanked her down by the collar.

"Are you trying to die?" Rowle hissed at her. Hermione glared at him, downed another potion, and repeated Gibbons actions with the next table.

"I am trying to get us the fuck out of here, Finn," Hermione hissed once she confirmed most of the soldiers were down. "Let's go. Grab a gun if you think you can wield one." She popped up, trusting Rowle to be able to wrangle Harry and led them out of the lab. She snagged a handgun on her way; she knew the basic mechanics and didn't want to be surprised if she had to defend herself without magic.

"Destroy it," she snapped just before they were in the hallway.

"Hermione, Dudley is in there," Harry grabbed her arm to stay her. "Pansy too."

"You want to save the people who held you hostage for a year and took down the wizarding world? Really, Harry? Priorities," Hermione hissed.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "The Hermione I knew wouldn't allow people to die."

"The Hermione you knew also hadn't ever killed anyone. I've seen more death in this year alone than I ever saw in the war against Voldemort. This is literally a fight for our lives."

"Are you done bickering with your boyfriend?" Gibbon snarled.

"Order stands. Destroy it. Permanently," Hermione said. She didn't have time to argue with Harry. Nor did they have the facilities to take anyone hostage. Pansy and Dudley were going to be collateral. It was a choice that Hermione was gladly willing to make if it meant they would be able to get the wizarding world back up and running again.

"Gladly," Gibbon smirked at her. "Get ready to run."

"The moment we're outside the confines of the base, Apparate to the house," Dolohov instructed. Hermione nodded, she gave one last glare to Rowle and Harry and took off down the hallway. She could hear everyone behind her; Gibbon was shouting the curse for Fiendfyre and Hermione ran faster. She trusted that Gibbon would be able to control it until they were all out, but she didn't want to test that theory either.

It was several long moments, and a few times they'd had to double back because they missed a turn, but finally, they were on the elevator and heading back to the surface.

"Hang on," Hermione murmured as soon as the elevator doors opened she shot a crowd-stunner. Several thumps told her she'd hit her mark as the doors opened fully and she spotted half a dozen soldiers.

"This place is going to burn, and everyone in it will die," Harry hissed.

"Good," Gibbon replied. "That was the fucking point, Potter."

"Death Eater," Harry responded.

"Shut up, Harry," Hermione said as she led the way out of the small building and outside onto the base. "We can discuss this later."

They didn't run into anyone else before they made it outside the fencing of the base, but as everyone else Apparated away, Hermione spotted the first flames of Fiendfyre begin to reach the surface. She only hoped the general ward she'd cast around the base would be enough to keep the Fiendfyre in and stop it from burning the entire island.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Well, here it is! Last chapter! I wanted to get it up before the weekend and just before the year anniversary. Hope you all enjoyed this wild and thanks for sticking with it!**

 **My only beta is Grammarly; all other mistakes are mine.** **If you liked this chapter (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! You can find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or Facebook at Shan Crochetaway.**

* * *

 _January 2004_

 _Ministry of Magic_

 _London, UK_

* * *

It took almost three months to evict all of the Muggles from Diagon Alley, St Mungo's, and the Ministry and begin protecting them with Granger's improved Muggle-Repelling Charm. It seemed like every time they were ready to put up the charms, another Muggle popped up and by the end of it, Antonin was thoroughly exhausted. But it was necessary to complete before they took a tour of the old villages and began rooting people out of them and back into a fully wizarding world.

The biggest change from a year and a half of being exposed to Muggles was that there was now a much more definitive 'veil' between the two worlds. It was something that Antonin was surprised to learn that Granger was quite insistent on.

"It's safer for us all," Granger argued. Antonin didn't disagree with her, but Potter was a bit of a thorn in their sides over it. They were in the newly restored Ministry, trying to sort through residency records in an attempt to track down every witch and wizard still alive in Britain. The Ministry Archives were housed in a huge room, but it was dusty from being uninhabited for at least a year. There were some wards that even the Muggles were unable to break through.

"It's only going to increase tensions over the long run," Potter responded. His lips thinned and he slammed down the parchment he was holding.

"What do you know about it, Harry?" Granger hissed through gritted teeth. Antonin was enjoying watching how Granger argued with Potter. He hadn't ever given their friendship much thought before, but if pressed, he would have said that Potter was the ringleader, although, seeing him and Granger interact, it seemed like Granger more than held her own. "You weren't out here living it. Let me tell you, the Horcrux hunt and taking down Voldemort was a fucking breeze compared to the Muggle military. And honestly, it's worse for those of us who grew up in the Muggle world. They tracked me right down to my parent's house!"

"Alright, alright." Potter raised his hands placatingly.

"What we need from you is help in the old villages," Granger told Potter. As good as she was at riling Potter up, she was equally skilled in placating him. "The people still in hiding are scared and the face of The-Boy-Who-Lived would go a long way in soothing those fears."

"That's right," Antonin agreed. "We can send you out with Connor or Talen. Your face will ease a lot of the fear we're seeing now."

"Fine," Potter agreed. "But I hate being used this way."

"I know, Harry," Hermione said with a sad smile. "But this is a different world and as terrible as the last year and a half has been, we have a really great opportunity to shape the world into something we can be proud of."

Potter nodded his agreement and Antonin breathed a sigh of relief as he offloaded Potter onto Talen. Connor would probably come back with Potter's head on a stick. Better to have Talen put up with him.

One of the most shocking discoveries upon the recovery of Diagon Alley had been that the goblins were all alive and well, living within Gringotts. Apparently, the goblins had their own fail-safe's in place to survive any manner of world-ending crisis. Not only were all the vaults hidden from the Muggles, the goblins decided to only confiscate half of the accounts of the deceased as payment. The other half was given to the Ministry, which sorely needed the money.

* * *

Another month and a half passed while they contacted every witch or wizard they could find. They found more dead bodies than Antonin ever wanted to see in his life. After discovering an entire house of them, he ordered a census among those going out on contact tours. It would be infinitely useful to know their population numbers regardless, and if they were unsustainably low, well, perhaps they could appeal to some of their allies in the ICW.

By March, they had contacted every wizard in the Ministry's files. There were approximately three thousand. Pre-crisis numbers suggested that the population had been closer to ten thousand.

Once more, they were in the Ministry. Granger had commandeered the Minister's offices as their meeting place. Antonin wondered if that meant she wanted to be Minister for Magic when they inevitably held elections in a few months time. He wouldn't oppose her, but the more they worked on re-organizing the wizarding world, the more he wondered if he should run for Minister. He enjoyed the work, and he was so ingrained as leader of their little band, that people followed his orders without question.

"Seven thousand, just gone," Granger had bemoaned. The first time she'd heard the numbers, she'd gotten physically sick. It had sent Thorfinn off into a tizzy of making sure she was taking care of herself. The new number didn't sit well with Antonin either. Three thousand was barely viable. They were going to have to work hard to get wizarding Britain back on the map.

"Could we Obliviate the Muggles somehow?" Granger asked one day in mid-March. They'd succeeded in finding and disseminating information to all the remaining wizards in Britain. Elections for Minister for Magic and the Wizengamot would be held in June. And Theo Nott had been successful in getting the printing presses at the _Daily Prophet_ up and running. Right now, it was being run more as an informational sheet on what they were doing, but Antonin hoped soon they would be able to make an actual go of it.

"How do you mean?" Potter asked.

"Well, look," Granger shoved an old copy of the _Daily Caller_ , New York City's wizarding newspaper, at both Potter and Antonin. Antonin grabbed it before Potter could and read through the article she had indicated.

"We don't have a Thunderbird," Antonin said.

"Do we need one? We need Obliviate in a bottle, specifically formulated for Muggles. A generic weather spell would do for delivery," Granger pointed out.

"We're just going to Obliviate them all?" Potter asked.

"We have to," Connor replied. "We'll never have any peace from the Muggles if we don't Obliviate them all."

"It's wrong," Potter mumbled.

"Harry," Granger sighed. "I get it, you dislike using magic on Muggles. Frankly, I dislike it too, but Yaxley is _right_. Much as I hate to admit that," Granger shot a look at Connor who ignored her. "But having the Muggles off our backs is the only way we're going to be able to rebuild. If we have to constantly look over our shoulders, we'll never be able to make it. We might as all move to France or something and give up Britain entirely."

"Can't do that," Potter said. "What will the Muggle-borns do?"

"See, this is why we have to stay. Stay and mass-Obliviate the Muggles. It's going to be hard work, we'll miss some, and that's fine. There have always been eccentric Muggles," Granger chuckled.

"Fine, but again, I don't like it," Potter conceded.

"The question is how to bottle the Obliviate spell," Connor mused.

"Too bad we don't have any of Professor Snape's books," Granger said. "I bet he knew."

"We should put out a call for people proficient in potions," Talen mused. "Nott might be good, and I'm sure there are others."

"Why don't you do that, Talen," Antonin suggested. "Granger, you can start researching, right? Then, anyone who answers the call, we'll put in touch with you."

"Alright," Granger agreed. "There's something else. Harry mentioned Muggle-borns. I think we need to get the registry from Hogwarts."

"Why?" Potter asked. Antonin was getting tired of his constant suspicious nature. He wished the boy would just trust Granger.

"Because we shouldn't leave them until eleven to introduce them into wizarding society," Connor answered, surprising Antonin. He and Granger had both been about to say the same thing, so he was surprised when Connor said it.

"When should we contact them?" Thorfinn asked. "At birth? That's when they go in the Registry at Hogwarts."

"No, that's too early. They all have the Trace on them, right?" Granger asked. "That's part of the magic of the Registry when their name gets put in, they get the Trace put on them. So as long as that process is still working, we should contact at their first bout of accidental magic."

"How do we know if that process is still working?" Potter asked.

"Improper Use of Magic Office, right?" Granger asked. "We should go see what sorts of records have piled up in the last few months."

It was times like this that really showed just how cumbersome this project was. Setting up a new society was always going to be a huge undertaking, but stepping into the role of an old society was just as daunting, only now they didn't have enough people to even staff the ministry at half-capacity. Pre-crisis the Ministry employed almost three thousand people. There were going to be a lot of offices and roles that just went unfilled.

"Right," Thorfinn agreed. "I'll go down and check to see what we've got there."

Despite the overwhelming nature of it all, everyone in the Death Eater camp was willing to help out. Potter was still suspicious of them all, but Antonin was just grateful for the help. It's not like they could re-incarcerate three percent of their population.

Or, well, they could. That thought didn't sit well with Antonin, but he was reasonably confident that Granger wouldn't let that happen. Regardless of the blowback from the rest of the community, it stood that there wouldn't be a community if Antonin and his group hadn't found Granger and protected her for a year and a half while she worked on figuring out not just the Muggle-Repelling Charm problem, but also blasting the main encampment of the Muggle military off the map.

* * *

 _June 2004_

 _Ministry of Magic_

 _London, UK_

* * *

Antonin looked down at the headline of the _Daily Prophet_ and still felt a bit of shock: 'EX-DEATH EATER, ANTONIN DOLOHOV, MINISTER FOR MAGIC!' He'd known it was a possibility, but he had assumed that Potter or Granger would win as write-in candidates, despite the fact that neither of them was actually running for office.

"Well done, Antonin," Connor clapped him on the back as he read over Antonin's shoulder. They were still using the Minister's office as their headquarters. "Guess I should leave you to it then."

"What does Minister for Magic do?" Antonin asked in a bit of a daze.

Granger laughed. "What you've been doing all along, Antonin. Taking care of the people who put their trust in you. First step, form a Wizengamot. We can assume all the old laws still hold, but we shouldn't rely on them for any longer than we actually have to. There is a much smaller, more vulnerable population now. Our laws should reflect that. I think the first law to pass would be exonerating the surviving Death Eaters."

"And when will the Obliviation potion be ready?" Talen asked. "I feel like we can't really get started on governing until we know we're safe from the Muggles."

"I want to test it, actually," Granger said, her cheeks reddened in embarrassment and she glanced around the office. "I didn't want to say in front of Harry, but perhaps we could capture a few Muggles and test it on them first?"

"A solid plan," Connor agreed. Granger let out a breath like she had been afraid they would argue with her. If anything, Antonin was pleased with how ruthless she had become over the last two years. They were going to need that ruthlessness in the coming months and years.

* * *

 _July 2004_

 _Diagon Alley_

 _London, UK_

* * *

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she took in her new flat. She and Rowle had just moved in the last of their things from their tent. It was strange, there was a lot of property in the wizarding world that didn't have an owner. The Wizengamot had decreed the month before that if the original owner and next of kin were both deceased, property reverted back to the Ministry and could be purchased back from them at pre-crisis market values. Which is how Hermione and Rowle had purchased their flat.

A knock on her door brought her out of her reverie and she opened it to find Harry standing on the other side.

"I would have brought a bottle of wine if any of the wizarding markets were selling it," he said with a shrug.

"It's fine," Hermione grinned and invited him inside. Rowle was still at the Ministry for the day. He'd taken on a role in the DMLE, which was just getting back on its feet with the small handful of personnel available to them.

"Are you ready to go?" Harry asked as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

"Nervous?" Hermione replied as she led the way out of the flat and locked the door.

"A bit," Harry said. "I'm hoping that the Fidelius Charm protected it from the Muggles."

"I'm just glad that now that the Muggles are all Obliviated, we can actually venture out into the Muggle world without fear," Hermione replied. The Obliviation rain had gone off without a hitch, and for the most part, every Muggle in Britain had forgotten completely about the existence of another society living just at the edges of their own.

"I hate to agree with you on that," Harry replied, "but I think you were right. It's easier for us as a culture to exist without the Muggles knowing about us."

"And it will hopefully keep tensions between the two worlds down, although, with the more stringent barriers in place, they will never truly disappear."

"True," Harry agreed. They took the short walk from Hermione's building down to the Leaky Cauldron. There was still a portal between the Leaky Cauldron and the Muggle world, but now, instead of an unmanned doorway, there was a booth occupied at all times by a Ministry official. The official checked the wizarding identification prior to allowing them out into the Muggle world and vice versa. The last thing they wanted was to let an unsuspecting Muggle walk back into the wizarding world because they either hadn't been covered by the Obliviation rain or because they were immune to it in some way. It felt like a small price to pay, for security.

Some small part of Hermione worried though. She worried that the wizarding world would forget the lessons so recently learned. Not just from the failing Muggle-Repelling Charms, but also from the recent rise and fall of Voldemort. She had vowed that she wouldn't let the world forget in her lifetime. She only hoped that it would be enough for future generations.

The moment they were on the other side of the customs booth in the Leaky, Harry turned to her with a small grin. "See you on the flip side." Then he Apparated away. Hermione rolled her eyes and also Apparated to the small park at the end of Grimmauld Place. Harry was waiting for her and they walked quickly down to number twelve.

Numbers thirteen and eleven moved apart to accommodate number twelve as Harry and Hermione approached.

"A good sign," Hermione said. Harry grabbed her hand and she squeezed his back in solidarity. Then the two of them climbed the stairs to the stoop and Harry opened the door.

"Who gave you a love potion in sixth year?" someone with a wand shouted, the wand pointed directly at Harry's nose.

"Romilda Vane," Hermione said, "but Harry never got it, Ron did."

"Hermione?" Ginny asked, lowering her wand, breaking out into a huge grin. "Harry! Hermione!" She leapt forward and wrapped her arms around both of their necks. She was half-sobbing into Harry's chest. Hermione hugged her back and looked up to see the rest of the Weasley's, along with Luna Lovegood and her father, and Andromeda and Teddy Tonks crowding into the entry hall of Grimmauld Place.

"Merlin, how long have you all been here?" Hermione asked breaking free of Ginny's hug. Ginny wrapped both arms around Harry and Hermione stepped around the reunited couple to enter Grimmauld Place properly. Bill and Fleur were both there, along with Charlie, Percy and Audrey, George, and Molly and Arthur.

"Almost two years," Molly said with tears in her eyes. She stepped forward to wrap Hermione in a hug. "It's good to see you. We'd almost given up hope."

"Oh, Godric," Hermione muttered as tears began to sting at the back of her eyes. All along, they were here. She'd thought they were dead. She'd thought she and Harry were coming to an empty house and yet here they were. Alive. Safe. And they had no idea, not expecting them to be here. "I have so much to tell you all."

After hugs were passed out among them all, Harry broke the news about Ron. It was hard for him to have to repeat it all again and his memory wasn't great after having been kept sedated for a year, but he told the family what he knew.

"I'm so sorry," Harry murmured when he was done.

Molly was in tears and Arthur comforting her. Ginny had her arm slung across Harry's shoulders. "You didn't do anything wrong, Harry," Ginny said. "Honestly, we thought all three of you were dead. And while it's awful that Ron didn't make it, at least you two did."

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes. There was so much more to impart and she'd never get through it all if she spent too much time thinking about Ron now.

News of the current Minister for Magic shocked pretty much everyone. George didn't want to believe that Hermione was involved with Rowle to the point of having moved in with him.

"He's a Death Eater," George said for the third time.

Hermione sighed. "You have no idea what it was like. You have no idea how many times I barely escaped death. I guarantee that you would have thrown your lot in with Death Eater's if you had nobody else either. How could I predict you'd all be here? Or even think that attempting to come someplace in the middle of London? It would have been suicide."

"Why don't the Muggle's remember?" Andromeda asked, changing the subject.

"Hermione's idea," Harry said. He beamed at her. "Obliviation rain. Seems harsh, but the wizarding world's population is decimated. Which means that we wouldn't be able to have a wizarding world if we didn't first do something about all of the Muggles who knew about us."

That seemed to turn the tides of the discussion. Luna and her father were the easiest to convince to return to their home. Bill wasn't ready to leave until he understood the exact theory behind the new Muggle-Repelling Charm, so Hermione brought him out to the new ley line she had tied the charm too. After that, all of the Weasley's left the sanctuary of Grimmauld Place for their old homes.

* * *

 _August 2004_

 _Ministry of Magic_

 _London, UK_

* * *

"Can we have Hogwarts ready to open by January?" Dolohov asked his cabinet. Hermione glanced through her notes.

"Possibly, although with a smaller number of courses on offer. I think the normalcy needs to be established, even if we aren't up to pre-crisis offerings. The library's been completely cleaned out, you'll recall. We'll need to restock that as well as the potions stores and hospital wing."

"Have we identified professors?" Yaxley asked.

"We have a few who are willing to teach for a couple of years," Hermione replied. She'd taken on re-establishing Hogwarts as her big project. She was the current Minister for Education and had a bare-bones staff of twelve other witches and wizards helping her get the school off the ground again. One of their first orders of business was cleaning the school from the slaughter it had endured.

"And where are we on a primary school?" Dolohov inquired.

"Not as close as we are for Hogwarts," Hermione admitted. "I'd like to get Hogwarts established and running on its own before worrying about the primary school."

"Fine," Dolohov agreed and moved on to other matters. Hermione had a to-do list for getting Hogwarts running by January that was over four feet long. It was a big task, but one she felt was vitally important. She had offered to teach if needed, but as Rowle had pointed out she was probably more effective as an administrator then she would be as a professor. She was sure that half the reason he made that argument was to keep Hermione in London, which she didn't mind in the least.

She found that she rather liked living with Rowle. Hermione had never really lived with a partner before and while technically she and Rowle had lived together when living in the Death Eater encampment, it seemed more real now, somehow. More permanent perhaps? It was hard for Hermione to put her finger on what exactly was different about it.

* * *

 _August 2004_

 _Diagon Alley_

 _London, UK_

* * *

"Done for the night?" Rowle asked, his hands settled on her shoulders, rubbing the tension from them.

"That feels amazing," Hermione hummed as she leaned her head back into his flat stomach.

"Oh, darling, I can make you feel so much better than amazing," Rowle rumbled. His voice was low and made something delicious curl in Hermione's belly.

"In that case, I'm definitely done for the night," Hermione agreed. She set her quill down and capped her ink before standing to face Rowle.

"Thank Salazar," Rowle muttered just before pressing a fierce kiss to her lips. He wrapped one arm around her waist and the other gripped the back of her neck, angling her head so he could plunder her mouth more effectively. Hermione never felt as safe as she did wrapped in Rowle's arms. He was a large wizard, but Hermione couldn't help but feel that wasn't the only reason she felt safe. He took care of her in ways she didn't realize she wanted or needed before she ran into him that day in the Forest of Dean.

He lit a fire in her that she never wanted to extinguish.

"Need you," Hermione panted as Rowle's lips slipped from hers and down the column of her throat.

Rowle's chuckle rumbled his chest and tightened Hermione's nipples. "Let's at least make it to the bedroom this time."

"What? You didn't like the desk sex from earlier this week?" Hermione asked cheekily, as she buried her hand in his hair and pulled his head back so she could look at him.

"I fucking loved it, as you well know," Rowle said, narrowing his eyes at her. "But I have something else planned for tonight."

Before Hermione could answer him, he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, striding quickly for her bedroom. Hermione laughed as she slapped his arse.

"View's not bad from here," Hermione teased.

"Here neither," Rowle said, squeezing her bum.

He flopped her down on the bed, half-knocking the wind out of her as she giggled over his antics.

"Such a caveman," she said rolling her eyes.

"You fucking love it," Rowle said as he vanished their clothes and climbed on top of her, stretching his body along hers.

"Hell yes, I do," Hermione said. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and yanked him down so that he was lying flush on top of her, barely supporting his weight with his arms.

"Merlin, little witch, you're going to be the death of me," Rowle murmured as she cradled him in the vee of her thighs.

"I assure you that the feeling is mutual," Hermione hissed as his cock slid through her already wet folds.

Rowle worked his hands beneath her, one at the nape of her neck and the other her middle back, dropping his lips to hers in another breath-stealing kiss. Hermione groaned as he flipped them quickly so he was on his back and she laying atop him, her legs splayed to either side of his hips.

"I love watching you on top of me," Rowle said, breaking the kiss and helping to situate her in his lap. She slid slowly down his length, engulfing him in her tight channel. She loved the way he stretched and filled her every time. "Like a conquering Valkyrie."

Hermione sighed as she sat up straighter and began a slow, rocking motion. "I love the way your cock hits every sensitive spot inside me."

"I love the way you talk dirty to me," Rowle groaned. He ran his hands up her thighs, then over her hips and waist, until he was cupping her breasts and thumbing her nipples. Hermione arched her back as a line of pleasure jumped from her nipples to her clit, pulling her tighter.

"That's it, little witch," Rowle growled, "ride me."

Hermione whined in her throat as she placed her hands on his solid chest, using him for support as she chased her pleasure. It wasn't long before she was crying out and her movements slowed. The moment her channel stopped fluttering around Rowle's cock, he gripped her hips and began pumping into her at a truly frantic speed. Hermione tried to help him along by clenching her inner muscles, not entirely sure if she was doing it right. It was only a few moments more before Rowle stiffened and groaned as he came.

Hermione collapsed down onto his chest, cuddling into him and tracing nonsense patterns against his skin with her fingertips.

"Marry me," Rowle said quietly.

"Was that a question?" Hermione asked, looking up at his face to see he was gazing down at her seriously.

"Marry me, please? Please do me the honor of becoming my wife. I never want to live without you. I want to rebuild our world with you. I don't want to know what it's like to not have you in my life. Please, little witch, Hermione, marry me?"

He looked so serious and half-terrified. Hermione had never considered marriage with him, but she wasn't opposed, it had literally just never crossed her mind. When would she have had time to fantasize about a permanent arrangement between them?

"Yes," she said breathlessly after a long moment.

"Oh, thank Merlin," Rowle muttered as he half-lifted her so he could press his lips to hers. "I thought you were going to say no for a moment," he admitted just before he kissed her.

Hermione huffed in slight amusement before finally closing the distance to kiss him. "Yes, a thousand times yes. I want to marry you Thorfinn Rowle. I want you beside me as we fix this fucked up world we've found ourselves in. I couldn't imagine doing it with anyone else."

 _ **~Fin~**_


End file.
